


Because of Pablo

by BoxFullofCats



Series: The Nikai [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Female Character of Color, Flashbacks, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Latino Character, Male-Female Friendship, Mentions of Greek Mythology, Mexican Character, Miscommunication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Semi-beta read, Warning: Sudden Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 85,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxFullofCats/pseuds/BoxFullofCats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Vicky are the best of friends. They are also idiots who don't say what is on their mind because...well, they don't have a good reason. They have their highs and lows but they always thought they'd have each other, no matter what. That is until Tom changes things, and it might not have been for the better.</p><p>For Tom and Vicky it all started Christmas of 2002. For Tom and Vicky it very well might end July of 2012. A story told over a period of ten years, jumping from past to present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Present Day - Summer 2012_

Tom was at his flat going over the script for his latest project before he had to leave home again in several days, this time for Germany. The knock at his front door disrupted him, though not entirely unwelcomed.

As had become his habit of late he checked the eyehole before opening his door. There stood his neighbor, Mr. Parsons, a kindly older gentleman somewhere in his late sixties.

“Oh, good, you’re home,” Mr. Parsons greeted him. “I was going to slip this under your door if weren’t.” Mr. Parson held out a thick, pearl color envelope with several stamps on it. “The missus says this was delivered to us a while ago but that it slipped behind a cabinet and we were unable to move it to reach it. Our grandson was over today so he retrieved it for us, our apologies for not being able to deliver it to you sooner.”

Tom took the envelope and smiled at the older man. “Oh no, it’s quite all right. I’m sure you’ve notice I haven’t been home lately. If you were able to bring it over to me sooner I probably would not have received it until recently.”

The men exchanged their goodbyes and Tom closed the door, looking over the envelope. It was addressed to him but the address was his neighbor’s. He had his own personal mail stopped being delivered to his home ages ago. ‘Strange,’ he thought as he opened the envelope, not taking note of its place of origin.

As Tom pulled out the contents it became apparent rather quickly that it was a wedding invitation. Who did he know that was engaged and getting married soon? No names immediately popped up. The invitation was very elegant, it opened from the middle and overlaying the two flaps were monogrammed initials but due to intricate calligraphy that made them up he couldn’t immediately make out what they were. Opening it up he read:

 _“Mr. and Mrs. Allen Gordon_  
request the honor of your presence at the  
marriage of their daughter

_Victoria Isabel Diaz_

_to,”_

The invitation and envelope slipped from his hands. He stood there for a moment trying to process what he had just read. “No,” he muttered in disbelief and picked up the invitation from the floor. He couldn’t have read it right. Quickly he opened it again and re-read it.

He needed to sit down.

Tom staggered over to where he had been sitting, his script and the movie he would shortly be filming seemed like they were from another time. They didn’t fit in his world at that moment. He ran a hand through his hair. She was getting married, really getting married, and if the invitation was to be believed then it was going to be taking place at the end of August, next month.

 _You only have yourself to blame,_  a voice inside his head told him.  _Could have been yours ages ago, but you’re a fucking tit. That’s what you are._

He knew that, of course, he knew it and did not need reminding. An idea struck Tom then and it sent him scrambling for his phone.

Luke picked up after the first two rings. “Hello Tom – ”

He didn’t let the man finish. “Luke I need a ticket to Los Angeles.”

“Los Angeles?” Luke questioned on the other line. “Well, I’m sure we could book you something when you come back from Germany. Or perhaps if you get a break while you’re there.”

“No,” Tom said firmly. “I need something now, book me for the fastest route.” There was silence on the other end. “Are you there Luke?”

“This is some kind of prank, right,” Luke finally said, “because I don’t find it funny.”

He growled in frustration. “Listen, I need to get to L.A. as soon as possible, I promise to be back before I have to be in Germany. However it’s imperative I go to L.A. _now_ rather than later. You can assist me and get me out there as swiftly as possible or if you allow me to do this myself I am sure I will botch it and end up stranded out there until September.”

Luke waited several beats before sighing and replied, “Very well.”

* * *

_**Chapter 1**  
21 December 2002_

  
It was several days before Christmas; snow had blanketed the ground the night before. Tom was on his way to his mother’s place. She had insisted he and his sisters spend the week of Christmas at her place as some cousin of hers had come a great distance and she wanted them to meet them. They were staying nearby and she planned to have this cousin and his family spend their time with them. His mother had informed him that there were children to entertain. A boy and girl, if his mother’s excited ramblings were correct.

_That’s what I want to do for my holiday, entertain a couple of children._

Tom was not especially looking forward to spend a whole week with family, especially family he was meant to play babysitter. Christmas Day was fine but a whole week he was sure he’d be mad at the end of it. Being the nanny to a couple of children after one has recently broken up with their girlfriend of two years does not court the Spirit of Christmas and goodwill towards all Man.

Pulling up to his mother’s home he noticed that she was not home or at least her vehicle was not present. One of his sisters could have easily taken it out. He parked his car in front of the house and as quickly as he could he retrieved his small suitcase from the back. He tried the front door to find it locked and knocked a couple times, no answer. His fingers fumbled with his keys as he tried to locate the one to his mother’s home.

He dropped them once, cursed, before finding the correct piece of metal. He heard his mother’s laugh coming from the kitchen when he entered. Ah, so his mother was home and it seemed at least one of his sisters did take her car. He decided to take his things upstairs before greeting her. Distracted as he was he didn’t notice the items scattered around the room he usually stayed in when he visited. Placing his suitcase on the end of the bed Tom left the room without further inspection.

Striding into the kitchen he smiled at seeing his mother who was seated at the small kitchen table. “Hello Mum,” he said and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Tom, you made it!” she greeted him cheerfully, standing up to give him a proper hug. “How was your drive?”

“As exciting as it can be,” he replied with a smile.

His mother looked like she was going to say something but stopped. She patted his chest gently and gave him a motherly smile then remembered she had a guest. “Oh, Tom, this is Vicky, my cousin Allen’s daughter. Vicky, this is my son Tom I was telling you about earlier.” His mother gestured to the person sitting at the opposite side of the table.

Tom was prepared to see a little girl, at the most maybe twelve or thirteen. The only thing he correctly prepared for was that she was definitively female. She had to be closer to his age, a little younger, but definitely not a little girl.

“Hi,” Vicky said with a little wave of her hand and shy smile.

“Hello,” Tom managed to reply without looking like a fool.

Vicky was pretty, there was no denying it. She had long dark brown hair, dark eyes and her skin was a lovely golden tawny shade that made his pale skin want to weep in jealousy. She was dressed casually, from what he could see, in a red long sleeve shirt that she pushed up to her elbows. The neckline of the shirt scooped low, while not revealing too much, did display her…bosom quite nicely, and Tom always appreciated a nice…bosom.

And he realized he was ogling his cousin. Neither his mother nor Vicky appeared to notice his lecherous gaze so he quickly turned his attention back to his mother.

“Emma went out with her parents and brother to pick up a few groceries,” his mother went on.

He nodded, “I noticed your car wasn’t in the drive.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Vicky bring the mug that was before her up to her mouth, cupping both hands around it, to take a drink. In the back of his mind he wondered what those lip would… _no, no, stop right there._

His mother turned to his cousin and smiled. “Vicky volunteered to stay behind as it got a little crowded.”

“Plus you bribed me with hot chocolate,” Vicky smiled and took another sip from her mug. He noticed her accent now that more than one word tumbled from her lips. She was American. He should have remembered that, his mother must have told him.

His mother laughed, “Guilty.”

“Is Sarah not here yet?” he asked.

“No, she said she won’t be here until Christmas Day,” she replied. “I gave her room to Braden, Allen’s son, for the time being.”

Tom turned his attention to Vicky then, smiling at her. “Oh, so you and your family will be staying with us.”

Vicky, who had been mid-drink, shook her head and then lowered the mug. “No, just my brother and I, our parents are staying with my dad’s mom.” She laughed, “Things got crowded over there as well.”

“I gave her your room, Tom. I hope you don’t mind taking the cot.”

A little gasp escaped Vicky’s lips. “Oh, Diana, you shouldn’t have. I’ll take the cot. I don’t want to displace anyone.”

“Vicky, it is quite all right,” Tom reassured her. He tried to ignore the fact that he liked the way her name sounded coming from his lips.

_Cousin, remember she’s your cousin._

“No, it’s not, I don’t want you to think of me as that rude American girl who kicked you out of your room,” she insisted as she got up from the table and place her drink upon it. They protested but she told them not to worry and that she would get her things from the room and left for upstairs.

“Tom, go tell her she’s being silly. She’s our guest,” his mother sighed. Tom nodded and did as he was told.

He quickly ran upstairs to stop Vicky. She had tossed her suitcase on the bed and was putting some clothing in it.

“You can stay in this room,” he said as he entered.

“I know but it’s your room. I’d feel like I was putting you out of I took it.” She wouldn’t look at him, but he could tell that her cheeks were red. He wanted to know why she was blushing. Much like her shirt it was a very nice color on her.

Tom laughed, “Wouldn’t be taking it from me as I’m giving it to you. Technically this isn’t even my room as I no longer live at home. It just happens to be the room I stay in when I visit my mum.”

Vicky stopped moving and looked up at him, her dark eyes meeting his light ones. “Oh.” She blushed a little more.

Tom approached the bed and took his small bag off. “Let me take this out of here and then I’ll be back to show you how the shower across the hall works. There is a trick.”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied with a nervous laugh.

He quickly left and deposited his bag in his mother’s office. He would worry about where he was exactly staying later. Being a gentleman often meant that you didn’t get the comfortable bed. It was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make in this case.

When he came back to the room Vicky was taking books out of her suitcase and placing them to the side. A few of these were definitely not little paperbacks better suited for travel. Several were large, thick books one did not associate with light reading. He recognized some titles, not that he had necessarily read them, and even more still he didn’t.

“Are you planning to open a library while you’re over here?” He teased. Vicky looked at him and then back are books, letting out a laugh. “I am quite sure we have plenty.”

Her cheeks flushed again as she began to move the books around to the other side of her suitcase, as if to hide the volumes from him despite him already seeing them. “I had to keep myself entertained on the way over. I devour books kind of quickly. It happens when you go on trips and there isn’t anyone to really socialize with.”

“So you and I won’t be ‘socializing’ then?” He raised an eyebrow and kept a straight face as he crossed his arms, aiming to get a rise out of her.

Vicky’s head snapped up, her expression a mixture of shock and embarrassment, his ruse working. “No, I mean, uh, usually I’m the only one my age. I’m the in-betweener; too old of this, too young for that. Just used to finding a quiet spot and getting lost in a book to entertain myself.” Then she surprised him and gave him a grin dripping with wicked intent. “Of course, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.”

It was Tom’s turn to blush but he wasn’t sure what he was blushing  _for_  because it wasn’t as if she propositioned him. He knew ( _he knew_ ) she meant what kind of mischief she could get into or create was mostly harmless. She was not referring to anything of a sexual nature.

_You almost wish she was._

He really needed to get a handle on that beastie.

Tom shifted from foot to foot before letting out a cough. “So, would you like to follow me into the shower?” he asked and then quickly added, “To show you how to work it, I mean, one of the knobs is tricky.”

Vicky was trying to hold back a smile at his awkwardness. He appreciated it. “Sure, show me how to ‘work it.’”

Then Tom let out a laugh, one that he’d later be famous for, when his star had risen high. For now though it was “just” a laugh.

* * * * * * * *

Tom and Vicky were standing in the kitchen when Emma and Vicky’s family came back, having cocoa together. Vicky was on her second cup, her first one having gone cold while they were upstairs. Tom’s mother was in her study talking to one of her many relatives that they would see on Christmas Day.

“But Mom,” a young boy whined as they walked in the front door, still not visible as Tom and Vicky remained in the kitchen. “It would be so cool if I brought that home.”

A woman sighed heavily, “For the  _last_ time, Braeden, no.” Tom looked to Vicky over the rim of his cup as he drank, a smirk teasing his lips.

She gave him a half smile in return. “Sounds like my ‘rents are back.” He guessed as much by boy and woman’s American accents. Then the same wicked grin from the bedroom was on her face. “Oh…oh, I forgot.”

He set his mug on the counter, his brow furrowed in concern. Concern for what she forgot or for her expression he wasn’t entirely sure. “You forgot what?”

“You don’t know, I don’t think. Oh, I am going to have fun with this,” she said and sat her mug next to his. She placed a hand on his forearm. “I apologize in advance, Thomas.”

The combination of her saying his full name and her touch upon his skin made a shiver go down his spine that made him feel warmed instead of chilled. If Vicky felt the reverberated shiver where her hand lay upon his arm she gave no indication.

Giving himself a mental shake he followed Vicky to foyer where the cool December air was blowing in.

“Need any help?” Vicky asked. Any impish expression on her face was wiped clean.

“No, thank you Fred,” a man with dark hair and a beard, graced with a few gray hairs, replied with a very non-American accent, “I think we’ll manage.” He had several bags in hands as did the woman next to him.

Tom looked from Vicky back to the man. Then he looked at who he assumed was her mother and brother. Except for the man’s dark hair, still lighter than Vicky’s, he could find no common familial linkage. At least none that was blatantly obvious. Hell he found more in common with the boy, still quietly bugging his mother, and himself (they had similar cheek and brow structures) then her immediate blood relations.

_Maybe she was adopted? That could be a good thing._

Shut up.

Why did her father call her “Fred”? _She could really be male. That would be bad._

Shut up!

“Tom!” Emma said as she entered the foyer. “Oh, good you’re here. There are still some groceries in car that are little heavy. Would you mind getting those?” She didn’t wait for a reply as she quickly walked past him. “Thank you!” He watched as Vicky followed her family and his sister into the kitchen.

When he came back inside he sat the groceries on the counter. He greeted Emma properly with a hug and kiss on her cheek. Then he turned his attention to his visiting relations.

“I’m Tom,” he said holding out his hand out to the man.

He took his hand a smiled. “Allen, you don’t remember me but we’ve met before. Last time though you were just a little bugger,” Allen gestured up to hair, “and those curls hadn’t completely taken over your head.”

Tom laughed and ran a hand through his hair before he could stop himself. “It’s nice to be reacquainted then.”

Allen nodded and pulled his wife over as she passed by. “This is my wife, Laura.” Tom and Laura shook hands. She was taller than his mother by a few fingers with fair skin, hair blonde and her eyes a pale green. Again Vicky didn’t look like her though he had to admit, from hearing her speak to her son he slightly heard her in Vicky’s voice.

“Nice to meet you Tom,” Laura said with a smile as she shook his hand. “He won’t come over here because he’s sulking but that’s Braeden over there. Please excuse his poor manners. He was apparently raised in the wild.”

Chuckling, he chanced a look at the boy. He was doggedly not trying to show that he heard Laura. “That’s all right. I remember what it was like to be his age.”

Laura laughed, “Yes, being twelve is such a hard thing to do.” Shooting her son a look that clearly said ‘You better shape up,’ she asked. “You met Vicky, right? I’d hate to hear she was holed upstairs with her books.”

Tom looked behind him where Vicky and Emma were conversing. “Yes, we already met.” That made something perk up in Laura’s eyes when he spoke but before she could say anything Vicky let out an excited laugh as she peered into a bag and said, “Oh Flakes! These are the best.” Seeing her smile made him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: familiar relationships will become clearer in the next chapter or two. Don't get squicked out. This story has also been posted on my writing tumblr but was largely unedited/beta read. So I am going through it, chapter by chapter and posting it here when I finish with a chapter.
> 
> If you do find an error, please kindly point it out. Thank you. :)


	2. Chapter 2

_(Still the Same Day)_

There wasn’t a chance after Emma and her family came back to ask Vicky what she meant earlier by having “fun with this”. He was beginning to suspect but hadn’t worked out a clear theory. From what he could gather Allen and Laura were her parents, but when she spoke directly to them she called them by their first names (he noticed Braeden didn’t) but when referring to them she called them “Mom” and “Dad”. Neither Emma nor his mother seemed confused or bothered by this. Perhaps they already knew the story.

At tea Tom tried to look as casual as possible and took his seat next to the girl. She just smiled up at him as he stood next to her before he sat down, her dark eyes shining. Needless to say he was glad that he had chosen to sit next to her. While their sense of humor wasn’t exactly the same, Tom suspected it was the slight culture different, it was very similar. He was proud to say that he had her laughing quite a bit.

After dinner he and Emma did the dishes and served pudding: chocolate cake. It wasn’t until he was gathering the dishes that Tom noticed that Vicky hadn’t touch her cake. That was incorrect, he found upon closer inspection. She had scraped off the frosting and eaten the filling. The cake portion was left untouched.

As he picked up her plate he caught her eye and with a small gesture of his head he indicated for her follow him. Vicky raised an eyebrow but followed him, grabbing her brother’s empty plate.

Really it was just an excuse to be alone with her.  _‘Cousin,’_  he reminded himself.

Tom unceremoniously dumped her cake into the trash bin and then put the rest of the plates in the sink. Vicky did the same with the one she carried.

He leaned back against the counter, the palms of his hands resting on the counter top edge. “Do you have something against chocolate?”

Vicky took purchase of the counter space to the right of him and hooked her thumbs into the front pockets of her jeans. “No, I love chocolate,” she said with a smirk, looking up at him.

His eyebrows furrowed together. “You didn’t like the cake then?”

She chuckled, “I won’t torture you with this one. I don’t eat chocolate cake.”

He blinked a couple times before replying, “You don’t eat chocolate? You were excited earlier when they brought back chocolate for you.”

She pulled her long dark hair back with both hands, as if she was going to put it up, and then let it drop. “I  _love_  chocolate; I however can’t stand  _chocolate cake_.”

Tom was intrigued and highly amused. “Why not, why don’t you like it? I don’t think I have ever met anyone who has  _chosen_  not to like chocolate cake.”

“Truthfully I am not even sure myself,” she said with a little shrug of her shoulder. “I don’t have a memory or reason linked it to. I have just come to the conclusion that, to me, it’s not real chocolate. It doesn’t have the consistency of what  _I_  consider real chocolate.” Vicky paused and laughed. “My dad thinks I had some childhood trauma involving bad chocolate cake.”

“That would certainly explain things.”

“Hey!” she said and elbowed him in his ribs.

Tom laughed and fended off her second attack to his ribs. “Fine I was just joking.”

Vicky hooked her thumbs back into her front pockets again. “Good, because I kinda like you.”

That certainly piquet his interest, “Oh you like me, do you?” He hoped he was coming across as jovial not anxious like he suddenly felt.

Vicky nodded her head. “Sure, you seem like a cool guy. I mean, it’s only the first day. You could secretly be a psychotic serial killer for all I know.” It wasn’t a declaration of love but she was letting him know she enjoyed his company. He could live with that.

Tom put a hand over his heart. “I swear to you that you are safe with me and that I am not a psychotic serial killer.” Then he leaned down and to the side so that he could fake whisper into her ear, “Though if anyone asks, last night I was with you.” Her laugh echoed off the walls and soon he was joining her. She leaned into him as they continued to laugh.

Someone cleared their throat. Tom stopped first and looked up to find Braeden standing there with a slight frown on his face. Vicky stopped shortly afterwards and Tom was glad to see that she didn’t pull from his side.

“What’s up Bray?” Vicky asked.

Braeden, still frowning, looked between them. “I was sent to make sure you two were all right.”

“Perfectly fine,” she replied, a sweet smile upon her lips.

The boy gave them one more look before saying, “I’m getting a glass of water for Emma.”

Vicky sighed and pulled away from Tom’s side. “Aw, precious, you have a little crush.”

Braeden’s cheeks flared red; Tom didn’t think he had ever seen someone blush so quickly. “Shut up.”

Tom went the cupboard where the glassware was kept. “Let me help you out Braeden.” While he pulled a glass and filled it with water, Vicky continued to tease him as only sisters can.

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Its ok, Braden, its adorable but remember  _you’re_  related to her. Plus, you’re far too young for her.”

If possible Braeden’s face grew even redder. “Yeah, well, s-shut up,” he stuttered.

“Or what?” Vicky replied with a challenging look.

“Or-or I’m going to tell Clark about him,” and her brother shot an arm out to point at Tom.

“Oh leave me out of this,” Tom said and held up his free arm. He walked over to his cousin and gave him the glass of ice water. “Here you go.” Then he leaned down and said, “My sister loves Star Wars by the way. Perhaps you could talk to her about that.”

Braeden took the glass and looked at Tom in surprise. “Sure, I mean, thank you, uh, dude.”

“My pleasure,” Tom said with a wink and watched as the boy walked off. He rejoined Vicky by the counter and gave her a look. “Now that was just cruel.”

“I know, but I have to be able to give him a hard time every now and then. It will help him when he’s older, I’m sure of it.” The smile she gave him as she looked up echoed the wicked one from earlier in the day.

He decided it was his turn to give her a hard time. “So Clark is your boyfriend?”

She laughed under her breath and shook her head. “No, Clark is  _not_  my boyfriend, but that does remind me: Do you have a computer I could use? I need check my email.”

“To see if Clark has sent you a love letter?” Tom teased; secretly glad to hear that she was not dating this Clark even though he sensed that he was possibly more than just a friend.

Vicky let out a hard laugh. “Hardly. No I promised to email my friend Amy when we I got here and haven’t done that. She’s scared of flying and was sure that our plane would go down in a fiery crash over the Atlantic. She’s probably blown up my email trying to see if I’m still alive.”

“Her concern is something we will certainly have to remedy quickly then,” Tom said. “My mother has a computer in her study that I’m sure you could use.”

“That would be awesome,” Vicky beamed at him.

“Come with me then,” Tom said and he left the kitchen with Vicky right behind him.

Tom started up the computer and got things set up for her to use. When he was done he got out of the chair and held it out for her as she sat down. She thanked him and then logged on while Tom stood behind her.

Her inbox indicated that she had fifty new messages.

“It does look like she did attack your email with a vengeance,” Tom commented.

Vicky clicked on the first message and quickly read it before deleting it, moving to the second one and groaned. “Told you, I am not reading all these though, she just keeps getting more panicked.” Selecting the remaining emails from Amy she deleted them. Vicky opened a new message and quickly tapped out a reply, her fingers deftly flying across the keyboard, assuring her friend that she was in fact alive and well. As soon as she hit “Send” the computer chimed that she had a new message.

“Looks like you weren’t quick enough,” Tom mused; he leaned forward, resting his hands on the back of the chair. Vicky mumbled something and clicked back on her inbox. The email was not from Amy but rather one Clark Carter. Tom did not like seeing that this Clark had emailed her, not that there was any reason for him to be distressed.

Vicky shifted in her seat and he wanted to see what expression was on her face. Joy, relief, annoyance, irritation? Instead of reading the message Vicky logged off and then closed the window. “He can wait a week. I’ve got better things to do.”

Tom trying to seem light said, “Lover’s quarrel?”

Vicky looked up at him and blinked in shock a couple times before replying. “I don’t even know where to start correcting you on that comment but no, nothing like that. He’s this guy my mom keeps trying to set me up with,” she explained. “I personally think Laura has read one too many historical romance novels. It’s like she trying to arrange a marriage between us.” Rolling her eyes she got up from her seat.

Tom pushed the chair in and shut down the computer. “You don’t like him?”

She shrugged as she walked over to one of the bookcases. “He’s a nice guy and all, and I’ll admit when I was thirteen I may have had a little crush on him but I’ve grown out of it.” Pulling a book from the shelf she opened it up to read the inside jacket. “Besides, most people back home would frown if we started dating.”

“Why is that?” Tom asked, genuinely curious. Why would anyone not approve of dating this lovely girl? Perhaps they felt she was too good for this Clark? That would be a reasonable explanation he would willingly accept.

Vicky turned the book to a random page. “There is a slight age difference, which Laura has assured me does not bother her or Allen as they feel I am mature enough to handle a relationship with him.” She leaned her back against the bookcase. “Not that it would bother me but it’s my shield, my excuse, which I’m using to fend him off with.”

Tom walked over to her to stand before her. “Is it a large difference?”

Her eyes were trained on the page she was scanning. “No, three years – he’s twenty.”

Maths was never Tom’s forte but he was quick to do it now. That meant Vicky was seventeen, which meant that they were four years apart. He wanted to ask her if she’d be opposed to seeing someone who was four years older than she was. (However, she was still  _possibly_  his cousin – as he continued to remind himself.) Instead he looked down at the book and read, upside down, the first thing he saw.

“ _I crave you mouth, your voice, your hair_ ,” Tom read, putting as much emotion and inflection into his voice, as if he was reading lines for a part.  _“Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets, Bread does not nourish me; dawn disrupts me, all day. I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps._ ”

Vicky looked up him, her lips slightly parted; her breath was coming quickly as her brown eyes looked up at him. “Wh-what was that?” she asked in a breathless whisper as her cheeks started to pink.

“Pablo Neruda,” Tom said tapping the page that was still open. “That’s a book of his poetry you’re holding.”

“Yeah, Pablo, of course,” Vicky mumbled, still looking up at him.

“Don’t think me rude when I ask you this,” Tom said and gently took the book from her hands as it looked like she was about to drop it. “Are you adopted?”

“I’m-I’m,” she started to say and then gave her head a visible shake. “Not in the legal sense, no, but in all the ways that matter yes.” She smiled at him shyly before turning her head away. “I suppose my game is up.”

Tom reached past her to put the book away, his arm brushing her shoulder as he did so. Her cheeks grew warmer. “That does not explain things in the least.”

Vicky took that opportunity to edge away from him and made her way back towards the desk. “I’ll tell you the short of it. Laura is actually my aunt, her and my mother were sisters.” She turned to the desk and began playing with the paperclip holder.

He was beginning to realize she did that when was speaking of a potentially embarrassing or sensitive subject – finding something for her hands to do – instead of outright avoiding someone’s eyes. Tom found it quite pleasing that he picked up this habit so quickly.

“My mother passed when I was five,” Vicky continued, “and I haven’t seen my father since I was three or four. I lived with another aunt and uncle until I was twelve. That’s when I moved in with Laura and Allen.” She looked up at him; a smile that was just a bit sad was on her lips. “They wanted to adopt me, still do, but that’s made infinitely more difficult when you have one parent roaming around out there who can still claim you. But they are my parents in all the ways that count. I just have…reasons why I don’t call them ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad,’ nothing that’s against them, just personal ones.”

Tom wanted to say so many things right then. He wanted to thank her for opening up about something that was obviously terribly personal – they had, after all, only known each other for less than a day. He wanted to say it was cruel for life to place such a burden upon one so young, to be essentially an orphan at the age of five. That her father was a fool for not seeing her since she was three, to see the beautiful young woman she had become, to not at least be there for her when her mother passed was a crime in of itself.

Instead Tom tried to play it light and said, “Well that explains why you look nothing like your parents. I was beginning to think you were a changeling.”

He could see her eyes water and the tears threaten to fall when she let out a little sob and wiped her eyes. Unable to resist he closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her, at first trapping her arms against him before she slipped them free and encircled them around his waist. It seemed as if it was a natural instinct in regards to her. She was in distress, and as if that first sob was an indication that she was about to fall apart his first thought was to comfort her in a way that would make sure she didn’t. Her head rested against his chest and he could feel her hands lay flat against his back and pulled him closer. In return Tom tightened his told on her. He’d let her cry, but he’d not allow her feel alone while she did it.

“Thank you,” her muffled voice came from against his chest.

Tom shook his head, even though she couldn’t see it. “No, thank you. You didn’t have to share that, forgive me if I made you uncomfortable.”

Vicky pulled away from him and he reluctantly let her go. “Sorry for getting emotional then, I haven’t been like this in years when I tell people about that.” She wiped her eyes again, but there were no tears. It didn’t look like they had even fallen as most had been caught in her eyelashes. “Ugh, my life sounds like a soap opera when I talk about it.”

“I do have one question though,” Tom said when it seemed she had settled herself. He wasn’t sure how much more of his comforting would be appreciated, so he did not attempt to hold her again.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Why does Allen call you Fred?”

This made Vicky smile and she let out a little laugh. “It’s from a Looney Toons cartoon, I think, there are these two mafia goons named Fred and George. I forget how I became Fred, since he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. He’s been calling me that since before my mom passed.”

He chuckled at that, “Well then, Fred, we should go down and join the others.”

Vicky looked up at him and smiled sweetly, “Whatever you say, George.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is [Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda](http://poem-of-the-week.blogspot.com/2008/09/love-sonnet-xi-by-pablo-neruda.html). 
> 
> There is just the tiniest bit of self insertion here. And its mainly in reference to the mother trying to hook up her teenage daughter with a 20 year old man. I kid you not, I wish I was making this up and it was a bad plot point, but my mom did this with me. Except it was her best friend’s son. I swear she must have know I would need plot bunnies later. Write what you know, right? ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**_22 December 2002, Sunday_ **

Vicky groaned as her travel alarm went off, blindly her hand sought out the annoying device as she tried to turn it off. Finally she found the impossibly small snooze button and turned it off. Lying face down in the pillow she groaned again. Mornings were not her friend.

However for a few blissful moments, as her brain was waking up, she thought of nothing save the warmth around her. In this place between wake and asleep she felt like an ethereal cloud – she could not feel her limbs, if she had them, or how her torso moved up and down with her breath or the beating of her own heart.

This had to be one of her favorite things in the morning. The  _only_  thing about mornings that was good.

Like all dreams, though, it came to end far too quickly.

Suddenly the blankets around her felt obscenely heavy and her arm was starting to tingle from sleeping on it weird. Sighing she turned her head to the side so her face was exposed, squinting at the weak light was coming in from the windows. The dim light peeking through the curtains was still far too bright for Vicky.

“Ugh,” she moaned and flipped to her back and rubbed her eyes before opening them to look around the room. Vicky had never had that problem where she’d wake up and forget where she was. She had always been gifted with reality taking grip of her mind swiftly, which is why she brought up her right hand to smack herself right in the forehead and shut her eyes. “I am an idiot.”

She said this because all of yesterday came rushing across the back of her eyelids. Things had been so normal to start with. Vicky and her family had arrived the day before, she had met Emma and they got along well. Being only a year apart probably helped. Diana was great. Then yesterday things went downhill from there – ok, that might have been the melodramatic high schooler in her talking but the thought was still there.

Tom had walked into the kitchen and it took everything not to gape at him. She had hidden behind the mug of hot cocoa Diana had made for her to stop the goofy grin that wanted to plaster itself on her face. He was gorgeous. Vicky had never really been a fan of curly hair, especially the kind that rival a clown’s wig, but Tom’s blond locks had quickly won her over. They reminded her of the hair that cherubs in Renaissance paintings and sculptures wore except she felt that the style looked better on him.

And from there the positives on his appearance just went up. He was tall, which was necessary in Vicky’s book since being five-foot-four she wanted to make sure her kids had a fighting chance in the height department ( ** _not_**  that she was already picturing herself having kids with Tom – it was just her reasoning on liking tall men). He was blond – not the sun bleached blond she was used to, but still nice – and blue eyes. Oh, was she a sucker for blue eyes. Then there were those cheekbones which were unfair because no one should have cheekbones like that. And who knew that stick thin guys were her thing?

_Ok, Vicky, spending_ way _too much time thinking on how this guy looks._

Ugh. It was so easy to focus on how good the guy looked because it kept her from thinking how big of a dork she had been yesterday.

He had asked her a simple question. A question she had been asked countless times before, either verbally or by the looks she received: are you adopted? Nine times out of ten she would just politely say yes and leave it at that. It wasn’t the whole truth (hey, she wasn’t lying to them) but enough to placate people and keep them from asking too many questions. Most people really didn’t want to be brought down about hearing a little girl losing her mother when she was five.

Tom seemed to be that tenth time, though. She had planned to tell him her normal spiel, because she knew he would ask as most people eventually did. Damn him though for fogging up her brain with that voice of his (oh, that voice was sin) and reading that passage of poetry. Her knees had literally gone weak – and she thought that had always been a figure of speech – and she had to clutch on to the bookcase behind her to keep from collapsing. So right after that when he asked if she was adopted she let it all pour out: how her mom passed when she was five, how she hadn’t seen her father since she was three, how she had lived with another aunt and uncle until she went to live with Laura and Allen, them wanting to adopt her but being unable to. She even told him she had “reasons” for not calling them mom and dad even though to her they  _were_  her parents.

On top of all of it she had become emotional. She hated when people saw her cry, especially if they were cute guys. One good thing was that Tom had hugged her, and boy was he a good hugger. She could have stayed all day inside his arms.

Balling her right hand into a fist she thumped it against her forehead. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.”

God, she was just glad she hadn’t confessed more to him. Lord knows there was more baggage she could unload on him that would certainly scare him away.

Not that she thought Tom was remotely interested in her. When he first walked into the kitchen she knew he was way out of her league. She was actually surprised that he even paid her any mind after greeting her. Vicky was just so used to being in the background and looked over by most people. So much so that she had taken to stop correcting people when they got her name wrong. Apparently she looked like a Valeria. (At least they got the “V” right.) She wasn’t exactly a wallflower but wasn’t one to jump on the table be like, “Look at me!”

What she had expected to do was maybe befriend Emma or one of Allen’s other younger female relations that she’d met on her trip, thus far, but after Tom had followed her up to the room he hadn’t left her side. Which goes to a girl’s head making her think that he’s interested in her rather than just being polite, and Tom was a perfect English gentleman. Or at least what she’d imagine an English gentleman to be like.

Vicky wouldn’t mind it, of course, if he was interested in her. She knew he was a couple years older but that didn’t bother her, and it didn’t bother her parents either. There was no lying about that. Her parents were really okay with her dating older guys, mainly because they knew if she that she wasn’t going to lose her head over the guy and she wouldn’t do anything stupid and that wasn’t just blind naivety on their part. Or at least that’s what Vicky thought. They hadn’t expressed it in so many words, but that was the vibe she got.

Hell her last boyfriend had been nineteen (not that they had been serious) and Laura was currently pushing her to date Clark, who was twenty. Tom’s age was  _not_  a problem.

Of course nothing like that could or would happen between them. He probably thought she was some little emotional girl, crying at the drop of a hat. There was also the whole Atlantic Ocean and most of the continental United States that were in their way _if_ anything did happen. He probably already had a girlfriend back at college or university or whatever they called it over here.

“Stop dwelling on this,” she told herself and tossed the blankets off. The change in temperature caused her skin to breakout in goose bumps. Quickly running to her suitcase she pulled out her staple boot cut jeans and a navy blue long-sleeved knit sweater. Vicky dressed quickly and pulled her long dark hair into a ponytail but took her time to apply some makeup. Hey, just because she didn’t have a snowball chance in hell with him didn’t mean she couldn’t look nice. While taking peeks of those cheek bones from the corner of her eye.

After slipping on some socks, she grabbed her red Chucks she went downstairs. She didn’t get the whole “no shoes in house” thing but she’d follow house rules while there.

On her way downstairs she could hear voices coming from the kitchen and something ceramic clang against the counter top. Entering the kitchen she greeted Diana, who was making breakfast, and Emma. Vicky took a seat next to her.

“Sleep well?” Emma asked, smiling at her as she stirred something into her tea.

Vicky beamed at her, “Yes, thank you for asking.”

“Do your parents have anything planned today, dear?” Diana asked as she flipped an egg. In another pan bacon was cooking and the smell wafted over to Vicky making her stomach clench in hunger.

“I’m not sure. I think they’re staying over at my step-grandma’s place today to visit with her family,” Vicky said and poured herself a cup a tea. She had never been big on tea, but when in Rome and all that jazz. “Though if they forget I’m over here I won’t be upset.”

“Oh,” Emma sounded intrigued.

Vicky added some sugar, stirred, and took a sip of the tea, grimacing – too bitter. Adding more sugar to her tea she said, “The old bat and I don’t exactly get along.”

Her step-grandmother, or rather Allen’s mother, was one of those women who seemed really nice but her words were often nicely dressed in backhanded comments.

Diana laughed at her comment while Emma only raised a blonde eyebrow. “A year ago she told my mom that she worries for me,” Vicky began.

“She worries for you?” Emma asked, not sure where this was going.

“She worries that I’ll struggle with my weight my entire life since I come from a fat family,” Vicky explained, trying to sounds just a prim and proper as her step-grandmother did.

Emma’s eyebrows furrowed. “She said this to your _mother_ about _you_.”

“Yes, who I am in fact, despite looks, blood related to. So she would be included in that ‘fat family’ I come from.”

The other girl’s eyes went wide. “Oh, that cow!”

Vicky smirked and took another sip of her tea, still too bitter. She shoveled more sugar into it. “Exactly, so we don’t get along that well, as you can imagine. I love my step-grandpa though. He’s my secret ally against her.”

“Aunt Sylvia is always a bit of hypochondriac too, if I remember right,” Diana said as she brought a plate each of bacon and eggs over to the table.

“Oh, don’t get me started on that,” Vicky said, her and Emma helping themselves to the deliciousness.

While they served themselves Diana left the kitchen. Emma looked around to make sure no one else was around. “So what’s the deal?”

Vicky nearly choked on the piece of bacon she was eating, her mind immediately going to a certain male. “I’m sorry?” she asked once she cleared her windpipe.

“Your little brother doesn’t like me?” Emma joked.

Vicky laughed, so glad they were talking about a different male. “Ha ha, no, he is just has this thing about sleeping in unfamiliar places. He was ok for staying here yesterday but I think when he thought about it he realized it was not going to work for him.”

As her parents were leaving last night to go back to her step-grandmother’s Braden had a near mental breakdown. She had been embarrassed for him, for her parents, and for everyone else who had to hear him.  _She_  wanted to crawl under a rock for him. So even though he was going to be without a bed he went back with her parents.

Thank goodness Diana was so hospitable, or a kind of goddess because she insisted that Vicky continue to stay with her. She had caught the look Laura and Diana had exchanged when she had said this, so maybe Laura had told her about Vicky and Sylvia’s…issues.

“Is something burning?” a deep voice came. Vicky resisted the urge to look at him. Now she wanted to crawl under a rock for her own reasons.

After her little emotional display they had left the study and everything seemed fine between them. She wanted to believe it wasn’t an act that he still enjoyed her company. It was hard for her judge once they had rejoined their families. Again being a gentleman she was sure he wouldn’t be obvious in front of other people.

“Oh, the toast!” Diana exclaimed and dashed over to the toaster. “I thought I should worry it hadn’t come up yet.”

Tom chuckled and went over to help his mother. “Take a seat, I’ll finish up.” They politely argued back and forth before Diana gave in.

As Tom made more toast and poached his mother an egg, Vicky did her best to keep herself involved in the conversation with Diana and Emma. She paid him little mind as he sat down and ate breakfast with them. She was trying so hard not to pay attention to him that she didn’t hear him say her name, three times. It finally took Emma knocking her elbow against Vicky’s to get her attention.

“Huh, yes, sorry?” Vicky said looking at the blonde girl.

Emma smiled mischievously at her, “My brother is trying to get your attention.”

Vicky blushed, feeling her cheeks get warm. “I’m sorry Tom, yes?” Tom smirked at her. It looked like he was cleaning everything up now. She looked down and realized her empty plate was gone. When had he come and taken it away?

“I was asking what you’re plans are for today,” he inquired, wiping down the counter top.

“Avoiding my dad’s mother,” Vicky quipped.

Tom stopped cleaning and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sensing a story there.”

“She’s a cow,” Emma supplied.

“Emma,” Diana admonished but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

He let out a short laugh. “So you need an excuse to avoid her today?”

“A really good one,” she replied.

His blue eyes lit up then. “Good, because I need to do some last minute Christmas shopping for these wonderful women. Would you like to join me and be my accomplice?”

Emma leaned in toward her. “Make sure he gets us something nice.”

“That’s a yes, I think,” Vicky replied.

Then Tom gave her that brilliant smile that she was beginning to enjoy. “Great, be ready to go in fifteen minutes or so?”

Vicky nodded and did her best not to look at Tom’s butt as he left the room. She looked to Emma and Diana. “I need a good excuse now to give my parents.”

Diana reached over and patted Vicky’s hand. “Just tell Allen you’re spending the day with us and that I asked you to. You can put off seeing Sylvia for one more day.”

She smiled gratefully at the older woman. “Thank you. Excuse me, I’m going to go upstairs and use my cell phone to call them.” Thank goodness Allen was in the cell phone business and had acquired a small phone, for her use, overseas under pretense of “testing.”

Her call to her parents was quick. Allen hadn’t been exactly happy but when Laura gave her the okay he relented. She’d been seeing enough of his parents later in the week – which Vicky had cringed about silently – her mother had reasoned. After the phone call she pulled out her red pea coat that had been purchased for this trip. It had been by chance that she had found it back home. They didn’t usually sell things like this, being as it never grew truly cold enough to warrant a coat with an actual winter lining. She grabbed the sliver that counted as her wallet, phone and tucked them into the pockets of her jeans.

“Are you ready?” Tom asked as she met him downstairs right at the fifteen-minute mark.

“Yup,” she replied cheerfully, quickly pulling on her shoes.

“Great,” Tom smiled and held open the front door for her. They walked out to his car together and again he opened the door for her. She had never seen a car quite like it and thought the badge on the car said Poirot or something.

It was still weird to be sitting on the opposite side of the car. She wanted to reach over and pull the steering wheel over to her side but fought the urge by rubbing her hands together for warmth. Gloves would have been a good purchase to bring to England.

They sat in comfortable silence as Tom fiddled with the radio as they drove away. Once settled he glanced over at her before turning back to the road. “Where are you from? I have to admit my mother probably told me but I can’t remember.”

Vicky wanted to give a smartass answer, something like “The U.S., obviously,” but refrained and instead answered, “Arizona, we live in a suburb just outside of Phoenix.”

Tom put his blinker on and made a turn. “That must explain your gorgeous tan then.” Where exactly in the city he was taking her, she wasn’t sure.

‘Really, you’re going to say things like that?’ she thought and begged her cheeks not to light up. “No, if that was the case then everyone else in my family would be as dark as I am. I have genetics to thank for my tan and lack of height.”

Tom looked over at her, his eyebrows furrowed together to accompany his little frown. “What kind of genetics? And you aren’t short.”

She laughed then. “Yeah, my birth father was – is – Mexican; my mother’s side is mostly German. And I  _am_  short, five-foot-five is barely average. I wouldn’t expect a giant such as you to guess height correctly. What are you, six-foot-four?”

“Six-foot-two is what you Americans would label me” he corrected with a smirk. “And I am hardly a giant.”

“From down here you sure are,” Vicky smiled back and Tom laughed, which made her laugh. Then they both couldn’t stop laughing. People probably thought they were crazy as they drove passed them.

“Who laughs like that?” she asked when they could speak without giggling.

“Like what?” Tom wiped at his eyes.

“You, I have never heard anyone laugh quite like you. Most people are ‘hahaha,’ or ‘hehehe,’ laughers but you’re the first person I’ve know who is an ‘eheheh.’” Vicky shook her head in amazement.

Tom looked over at her, “Is that a bad thing, being an ‘eheheh,’ laugher?” His blue eyes traveled over her face before finding her eyes and not letting them go.

She just stared back him for several moments before giving herself a mental kick. “Road,” she simply said to remind him to pay attention to driving. It made her twitchy that he wasn’t looking.

He blinked quickly before turning his attention back to driving, both hands returning to the wheel. “No, it’s not a bad thing to laugh like that,” she clarified, “it just makes you unique, makes you stand out.”

Tom chuckled, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. “That’s a good thing, I hope.”

“Definitely,” she assured him.

It was quiet for a little bit save for the radio which cheerfully played Christmas songs. She looked out the window, enjoying the white blanketed landscape. There was so much more to enjoy then the desert and cacti she was used to seeing. Everything here had a history that went back hundreds of years, not saying Arizona didn’t but over here things were recorded, written down. Legends, while she enjoyed listen to them, didn’t have that tangibility. You couldn’t point and say, “Lord Englishman stood there and did something great back in thirteen-oh-nine,” back home.

After a few more moments of silence, and trying to imagine little stories for the cute homes she saw, she turned her gaze back into the car and to Tom. He was humming to the song playing, something she didn’t immediately recognize, his hands lighting tapping the wheel.

“Do you go to school or work?” she asked, leaning her head back against the headrest, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

Tom stopped tapping and looked over at her. “I’ve just finished studying at Cambridge and entered RADA,” he answered.

At least it was a name she recognized. “That’s cool,” was her reply.

“That’s it?” Tom asked in disbelief.

“Hey, you’re lucky this state educated American even recognizes the name Cambridge.” She poked his side to emphasize her point. He tried move out of the way but was unable to avoid her prodding finger.

Opening his mouth a couple times, Tom finally said, “I’m just not used to that, I suppose. I’m really at a loss of words to say which something I’m not use to, again.”

“Well, stick with me and I’m sure I can make you speechless a few more times,” Vicky said and then decided to have some fun and gave him what she hoped was her best flirting smile.

He mumbled something under his breath, which she swore sounded like, “That is completely unfair.”

“What was that?” Vicky asked, hoping for clarification.

Tom cleared his throat before answering, “Almost there.”

“I meant to ask where we were going. I feels as if you’re taking us outside London. I was told there were plenty of places to shop here.”

“There are many places but I thought that in case your parents ask you return early that you can give them the excuse of being too far,” Tom said looking rather mischievous. “It will at least take longer to get you back to them.”

“Thomas, you are awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I originally wrote this story I was pretty heavy on the details, hence the exact dates and what not. I mention this because I want to let you know that my knowledge of RADA comes from their current website. I don't know if things were different then, but I am under the impression that courses start in September and that's what I am going with for this. That Tom's just started RADA. Also, I am probably grossly extending whatever time off he got for Christmas. Shhh....
> 
> Again, if you notice any mistakes please politely point them out.


	4. Chapter 4

**(Still Sunday)**

Vicky had no idea where in London they were now, not that she was familiar with the place to begin with. For all she knew they could have traipsed in to Wales or crossed over to France. Tom had dragged them all over looking for a present for Emma as he admitted, when they went to their first store, he only said he need to shop for both his mother and sister as to not alert Emma.

There would be no complain from her about spending the day with Tom, except that it was cold. As she told him, “My people were not built for this weather.” She mourned for Phoenix just a little bit.  
After Tom kindly bought her lunch they ended up at a music store on a street filled with what looked like little independently own shops. The music store was no exception.

When they entered the store Tom and Vicky made a round of the place before stopping in the Classic Rock section.

“Ok,” Vicky said as she started to flip through the row of CDs before her. “What is your sister’s favorite group?”

Tom looked at her sheepishly. “Will you be upset if I told you I think she has all of their music?”

“No, but that’s good that you know that.”  _Click. Clack. Click._  “Well, how about we find something in that genre then? And probably something that just came out, better chance that she doesn’t have it.”

Tom agreed and they went over to the new releases display and started to browse through those. Tom was quickly flipping through the cases, seeming to know what he was looking for. While Vicky went a little slower, as she had no idea what Emma liked since Tom hadn’t really told her.

Then from overhead Vicky heard it and let out an embarrassing squeak in delight. Tom’s head shot up in surprise. “What was that?”

Vicky held up her index finger to him, as her head began to bob to a beat he hadn’t just heard yet before she broke out into a grin. She began to recite the lyrics from Will Smith’s “Miami” which Tom seemed to realize was playing overhead. She didn’t miss a beat and even fanned herself for effect when the “Ay, papi,” part came up. When she, grinning like a fool, and the song were done she was more impressed with the fact that she did this out in public then not have missed spoken any of the lyrics.

Applause came from around the store, Tom’s being the loudest. “How did you know all the lyrics?” he asked when the ovation was over.

Still grinning Vicky replied, “It’s my song-crush at the moment.”

Tom laughed, “Your song-crush. What in the world is that?”

She knew he didn’t mean to but that little bubble of confidence she had built up just moments ago was started to deflate. Vicky let out a small laugh, mumbled something, and gave him a weak smile before walking down the aisle, away from the new releases display. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat she took a look behind her, seeing where Tom was. He was right behind her, looking very eager to hear her explanation.

“A song-crush is very similar to say a schoolyard crush,” Vicky began when she felt comfortable again. “The song comes on the radio and you feel a little giddy or excited, just as if your crush walked into the room. And you find yourself flipping through the radio stations trying to catch it or tuning to ones that you feel have a greater chance of playing it. Similar to how at school you’d look for your crush, trying to catch their eyes.” She paused as she reached the end of the aisle. Vicky didn’t look back this time to see if Tom was there. She could sense his tall, lanky presence walking calmly behind him. She took out her hand from her pockets and with her left hand, she let her fingers skim over the top of the CDs. “Now this song may not be your all-time favorite. It may not even be on your top ten, but for a time it’s the only song you really want to hear. Maybe it reminds you of someone, or a memory, or you just like way it makes your chest vibrate with the beat if you turn the volume way up. It doesn’t matter. Later you may get over the song, as you got over your schoolyard crush. When you hear it later down the road it will make you still smile and you’ll remember that time when it was your song-crush.”

She stopped and turned around, bracing herself as she slowly brought up her eyes to meet his. This was the part that people usually gave her a look that clearly conveyed she was off her rocker when she went on one of her rants. Vicky did not want to see that look on Tom’s face. So when her dark eyes finally met Tom’s she was surprised to say the least. It wasn’t the I-think-you’re-crazy look. She couldn’t actually name it, admiration, perhaps? He still hadn’t said anything so she prompted, “Doesn’t make any sense does it?”

Tom had long legs and he quickly proved this. In the one long stride he closed the gap between them. Lord was he  _tall_ but he seemed to be the perfect height for her. Her head could perfectly rest against his shoulder. That is if she could move. Once Tom had closed the gap between them he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a tight embrace. Vicky was too stunned, feeling near paralyzed, only managing to reciprocate the hug and to turn her head slightly so that she could breathe. He tucked her head against his neck and rested his lips against the top of her head.

“I think that was brilliant,” Tom spoke finally, his lips moved against her hair.

“Thank you,” her response came out sounding docile.

He pulled away from her just enough to look at her. Tom’s eyes traveled her face and it felt as if he was caressing her with them before he met her gaze. “You are as smart as you are beautiful. I know we’ve only really known each other a day, but I am truly happy to have met you.”

That was it. She was going to beg her parents so that she could stay in England. Hell, she’d even make the sacrifice and live with Sylvia if it meant staying near this man.

‘ _And somewhere a feminist has dropped dead_ ,’ she wirily thought.

Instead of even trying to say anything remotely intelligent she smiled shyly up at him.

The moment was disrupted when a squeal came from across the store accompanied by, “Trinity, it’s the guy who played Randolph in that Churchill movie! We had watched it for that class – not that it really helped.”

Tom quickly turned around and tucked Vicky behind him, as if he was protecting her. Vicky only shook her head and peeked around him to see two girls, sisters by the look of them, excitedly approach Tom.

“We’re sorry,” said the girl whom spoken before, “but were you in the Churchill that came out this past summer?”

“Yes, as long as you’re referring to  _The Gathering Storm_ ,” Tom replied, his tone sounding nervous as he ran a hand over his hair.

“I knew it!” she squealed. “I told you Trin!” The other girl, Trinity, grinned back.

“That opening scene with you coming down to breakfast was hilarious,” Trinity said and laughed.

Vicky raised an eyebrow at the girl. ‘ _Overselling much, are we?_ ’ Was the girl actually batting her eyes at Tom?

“Why thank you,” Tom politely replied with a kind smile.

Squealer Girl of course squealed again. “Are you coming out in anything else?”

Tom shook his head, “No, nothing on film at this time.”

Trinity procured a camera from the bag that was slung across her shoulder. “Mind if we get a picture with you?”

“Oh, I’m sure you really don’t want that,” Tom said. “I don’t think meeting me warrants that.”

“Please!” Trinity begged, and Squealer looked at him imploringly.

Vicky stepped out from behind Tom and stood at his side. “I can take the picture if you want.”

Both girls snapped their attention to her and the looks they were giving her were not missed. Vicky supposed it was similar to the one lionesses gave their prey before they attacked.

Tom smiled down at Vicky. “That would be wonderful, darling.” Vicky’s heart stuttered at that.

Casually she shrugged with just one shoulder, “Sure, no problem.”

Trinity handed her the camera and gave her a look, measuring her up but finding her wanting. ‘ _Careful,_ puta _I can totally take you on_ ,’ Vicky thought at the girl but didn’t let her face betray her thoughts, only giving the girl a smile in return.

The girls giggled as they each took one of Tom’s sides and snuggled up against him. Tom hesitantly put his arms across the girls’ shoulders. Vicky counted to three and everyone smiled big as she took the picture. Squealer asked to see the camera and Vicky handed it to her. She, again, squealed as she saw the picture, thrusting the device into Trinity’s face for her to look.

Tom gently pried himself away from the girls and went to Vicky’s side, taking her hand in his and entwining their fingers together. Part of her wanted to look up at him and give him an incredulous look (she resisted) and the other half wanted to giggle like a little girl (she really resisted).

Squealer was the first to notice Tom’s action. “Oh, we’re sorry. I should have known she was your girlfriend. You two look adorable together!”

‘ _Liar_ ,’ Vicky thought.

“Aw,” Trinity said as she tried to fight the sour look that wanted to take up residence on her face. “How long have you been together, and is it hard since she’s American? With the distance, I mean.”

This girl and Sylvia would get along. ‘Since she’s American,’ indeed.

Tom chuckled, “We’ve been together for a while now and it’s not hard at all since we live together.” He looked at Vicky had gave her a smirk. “Thank you for your time, but we have some last minute gift shopping we must attend to.”

“Oh, right. Happy Christmas then,” Squealer said and the girls said goodbye before leaving them to wander the store more.

Tom and Vicky only wandered the store separately, briefly, before deciding to leave. When the door of the record store closed Vicky turned to give Tom a look, but it was not in response to him taking her hand again.

“Yes?” Tom inquired, trying to appear innocent.

Vicky couldn’t help but let out the grin. “I’m not sure where to even start! First of all, that was a little surreal. Are you some big star over here and should I be scared if those girls coming after me in my sleep?”

Tom laughed his “ehehehe,” laugh that she had teased him about earlier in the day. “No I am not some ‘big star.’ I’m not even a star; I’m more like a speck of dust. I was in a movie that appeared on television this summer about Winston Churchill, I played his son Randolph. To answer the second part of your question: I have two sisters so I know what a start of a cat fight looks like, I thought that if those girls thought that you were with me they might leave you alone.”

At least he wasn’t apologizing for holding her hand. “Well it’s nice to know that you’re looking out for me. So you’re an actor, huh, is that what studied at Cambridge?”

“No, but I did do a few plays, such as  _Electra_  as I mention earlier,” Tom replied and started to walk, and he gave her hand a gentle tug for her to follow him down the sidewalk.

“I’d like to see you in a play someday,” she confessed. “I haven’t been too many plays, mostly high school productions and a few done at the local playhouse. I’d see anything with you in it though.” Once the words left her mouth Vicky wanted to find a hole and hide in it. She hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, like she was.

For his part, Tom just grinned like a loon.

Tom did not find anything at the record store for Emma. Vicky did however snagged Will Smith’s  _Greatest Hits_  for her brother before they had left. As they walked outside a cool breeze brushed past them. Tom let go of her hand only to wrap his arm around her shoulders and tuck her into his side.

“Next store we go to will be the last. Then we can get you home and warmed up,” Tom said as they walked.

Vicky felt her stomach flip, home not “back to my mother’s”. She could almost believe in that moment they had their own little apartment somewhere and that’s where they would be returning to.

The last place on their hunt for the ever elusive present for Emma was a bookstore. Vicky had stopped dead in her tracks when she saw it. She just looked up at Tom who smiled and led them to the shop door, opening it for her.

It was Vicky’s dream bookstore. From floor to ceiling there were bookshelves filled to capacity with books, the aisle lengths and widths uneven. It was fairly neat in that crazy-librarian way. The store went back farther then it looked and she could spy what looked like a small sitting area in the back. Right next to the entrance was the cashier’s counter and behind it was a woman who looked to be somewhere in her sixties. They greeted each other nicely before Vicky looked back to all the books, all the glorious books. It looked like the older, gently used books occupied the shelves up front while the new books took up residence in the back.

Tom followed her to the back and before she could disappear down an aisle she turned around and it was her turn to grin like a loon. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For what I am about to do. I have dreamt about finding a bookstore like this. Borders and Barnes & Noble have nothing on this; they can’t give you the same experience.” Tom looked a little lost. “I am going to walk down between these bookshelves and get lost in the books. It may take a nuclear bomb going off before you can get me out. I give you permission to pick me up and carry me out if I take too long.”

“Doesn’t take much to please you then?” Tom smirked, tucking his hands inside his pockets.

Vicky shook her head. “Nope, get me a good book and a snack and I’m lost for hours, if not days. Movies I have a very similar reaction but at least I come back to the living at the roll of the credits.” She gave him one last smile before vanishing.

It had taken Vicky about an hour to assemble about a dozen books. She did manage to suggest a few to Tom as gifts for Emma, but she was mostly a lost cause. The books she found for herself ranged from fictional novels to old history text books. He found that she talked to herself in a way that was reminiscent of an absent minded professor as she went over the qualities of each book, trying to make a decision to which one to purchase. From the initial dozen books it took her another half hour to narrow them down to four.

He wasn’t the most patient person, too much energy to expend, but he enjoyed watching her process. Her fingers would tap her fingers along the edge of the book as she scanned it. Move her lips together as if she was blotting her lipstick. Sometimes it would almost look like a moment of recognition would come across her face, as if she found something she had been looking for or that was familiar to her.

Vicky had taken up residence at the back of the store where two large, mismatched, comfortable chairs were placed. One was a velour (or velvet, he couldn’t really tell) teal tufted chair that Vicky claimed as her own, placing final four books around her on the arms and even on the back of the chair as she took turns with reading passages out of them to help determined which one to purchase. The other chair was a dark green, high back piece that Tom occupied once he bought (finally!)  Emma’s gift – a book from her favorite author that just came out. It had been one of the books Vicky had suggested to him.

The woman from the front, who own the bookstore with her husband (Tom had chatted with her earlier), approached him with a small tray with a cup of tea, milk, sugar and biscuits on it. “On the house,” she said with a smile, “while you wait for you girlfriend.”

“Thank you,” Tom said, taking the tray and setting it on the small side table next to him. “We aren’t dating, however.”

The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise, “Oh, why not? Is she already seeing someone?”

Tom fixed his tea and looked at Vicky. She was still lost among the books, not paying any mind to their conversation. “No, she’s not seeing anyone else. There are just things that would prevent us from properly being together.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the shopkeeper replied. “Let me tell you something, I saw the way that girl looked at you when the two of you walked in, before she went to the books. Any man would be lucky to have a woman look at them with half of the affection the she looks at you.”

“We’ve only known each other one day,” Tom reasoned.

“For some that is all it takes.” Tom watched as the woman walked away, mulling over the woman’s words.


	5. Chapter 5

**_25 December 2002, Wednesday, Christmas Day_ **

It wasn’t her alarm that awoke her. It wasn’t any noise at all. At first her brain was telling her that it was an earthquake. That couldn’t be right though. Her brain eventually agreed.

Then came a voice, “Vicky, wake up Vicky.”

Her brain must have woken up on the crazy side because it thought, ‘ _Is that God? If so, then God sounds fucking hot._ ’

“Go away God, I’m sleepy,” she said and tried to roll away but was prevented by a hand on her shoulder.

“Was that Spanish? Are you speaking Spanish?”

That got her attention and it caused her brain to wake up too. She thought she had spoken in English. However, if it was really God, surely he’d be able to understand her, no matter what language she spoke. Like most times when she woke up she was face down in the pillow. Slowly she turned her head to the left and opened one eye. It was still dark, well darkish though the light wasn’t coming from the windows but rather the hallway. With the light shining in her eyes she found a pale hand with long fingers holding her shoulder. Following the sweater-clad arm that was attached to the hand she found that it was Tom, the light catching in his blue eyes.

“Go away, Hiddleston, its sleepy time. Fracking sun isn’t even up yet,” she grumbled and buried her face back into the pillow. No matter how good looking the guy was, it didn’t give him right to disrupt her sleep.

“How do you even sleep like that?” Tom wondered, more to himself because he didn’t wait for answer before continuing. “Vicky, get up. I want to show you something.”

She said something none too kindly in Spanish, though it was muffled by the pillow so he couldn’t understand what she said even if happen to speak English.

“You force my hand then,” Tom responded finally. He removed his hand from her shoulder, she squirmed into the bed trying to dig deeper into the mattress. Next thing she knew her pillow was gone and the blankets were off.

“Shit!” She cursed and jumped up onto her knees. It was impressive considering she had been lying flat just moments before. “What the hell Tom!”

“Shhh!” He warned and put a finger up to his lips for emphasis, she could still make out a smile on his face. “I told you to wake up, you should have woken up.”

Vicky glared at him, crossing her arms. The effect of the look was probably lost when she began to rub her arms for warmth. Not that it was exceptionally cold since the heater was on but the temperature difference from the piles of warm blankets she had been under to the air around her gave her goose bumps. Tom seemed to notice this too, in a way only a young heterosexual male could, as his eyes slowly went from her face to the bit of cleavage that was exposed from her low cut shirt she wore as part of her pajamas. No doubt her nipples were making themselves known since she didn’t wear a bra or anything under her shirt to bed, as that was right around where his eyes settled.

To save them both the chance of getting properly embarrassed she jumped off the bed, still rubbing her arms as went, “Brrrr!” Hoping she played it off like she didn’t notice. Luckily she happen to have left a zip up hoodie at the end of the bed so she quickly put that on, zipping it nearly all the way up.

“You better have a good excuse for waking me up at,” Vicky squinted at her measly digital travel alarm and still couldn’t read it, realizing she didn’t have her contacts in. “Ugh, whatever o’dark thirty in the morning this is.” She put her hands on her hips, hoping she came off as intimidating. Which she knew was hard since he was so damn tall.

“I have surprise for you,” Tom grinned and looked like the little boy who stole from the cookie jar.

“It couldn’t wait until the sun was up and shining?”

Tom shook his head, “No, not for what I want to show you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and was silent for a few beats before answering. “This better not be part of some prank, or so help me Hiddleston your ass will be grass.”

“My, what a dirty mouth you have this morning,” he commented as slowly closed the distance between them. He leaned down so that his face was nearly level with hers. “I don’t know if I should scold you or kiss you.” He didn’t wait to hear her response or see what expression would cross her face and opted for her door. “Dress warmly,” he said as he closed her door.

She wanted to yell after him but was very aware that there were other people sleeping in the house so instead she crossed her arms across her chest again and glowered at the floor. “That was completely unfair.”

Since Sunday, the day they had spent in London together, they had been toeing the line between friends and something more. There were bouts of outrageous flirting and other times where they just hung out like two longtime friends. It confused and excited her at the same time. Vicky knew that it definitely confused the hell out of everyone else that’s for sure.

A good example had been yesterday. Tom’s older sister had come in Monday night so the three siblings were going to visit their father since they were spending so much time with their mother’s side of the family this Christmas. Tom had surprised everyone by asking Vicky to come with them. Sarah had given her younger brother a look that could only convey that she thought he was bonkers. Emma had giggled and said, “Serious, are we Tom?”

Vicky had protested, and said no, she even said she promise to spend the day with her family. (Which was a total lie; her parents had left her to her own devices since Sunday. Only saying that she had better not get into trouble and that Christmas Day they were going to spend together. That wasn’t going to be hard, especially since Tom’s family was going to be there as well.) Tom finally wore her down until she gave in.

It felt very odd to be going with the three of them to their father’s house. She felt like she was intruding on something. She didn’t know the guy. Thankfully it wasn’t terribly awkward. He greeted her with a smile and his Scottish accent, which had kind of surprised her. The only time it got a little uncomfortable was at dinner when Mr. Hiddleston asked how long she and Tom had been dating. Emma had started choking on her food, trying not to die and laugh at the same time while Sarah hid her smirk behind her glass of wine. Vicky was sure her own face had gone red faster than it had in her entire life. Maybe being an actor paid off for Tom because he just casually explained that they were just friends as if he was commenting his favorite tea. Out sight, under the table, he had grabbed her hand in act of reassurance.

It wasn’t as if he was the only one sending mixed signals. She was just as guilty, she just wasn’t brave enough to do it in public as he did.

This morning, apparently, was going to be no different with the varying messages they wished to convey.

Vicky debated on whether or not to go back to bed. It was going to be cold but her body heat would warm it up quickly. She stomped a foot and groaned in defeat. Dragging herself over to her things she went at a snail’s pace and dressed herself in her standard pair of jeans and a t-shirt that said, “Gilbert High Softball,” and pulled out her matching team hooded sweater. The cold was making her feel a little homesick. Converses of course donned her feet. Just as slowly she went across to the bathroom to brush her teeth, put in her contacts, and put her thick hair back into a braid.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she went downstairs and met Tom at the front door. He just grinned at her and shook his head. “Do you think you could have gone any slower?”

Vicky narrowed her eyes at him, “Don’t test me Hiddleston. You’re lucky I didn’t crawl back into bed after you left. I was prepared to punch you if you tried to drag me out of bed again.”

“You don’t mean that, darling, you like me too much,” Tom replied cheekily.

Hand shoved into the mono pocket of her sweater she continued to glare at him. “That is entirely up for debate.”

Tom put on his kicked-puppy face. “Oh, don’t say that Vicky.” He pulled out a thermos he was hiding behind him and held it out for her. “I made you coffee.” She tentatively took it from him. “Made it just the way you like it: loads of sugar and milk. I even found some caramel and added it in.”

Vicky opened the top and took in the aroma. She couldn’t help but smile. Damn that man. “Fine, I like you.”

Tom grinned from ear to ear. “That’s my girl,” he said and draped an arm around her shoulders. “Now, I have the car packed up, let’s get going before we miss it.”

“You still haven’t said what it is or where we’re going,” she pointed out as he opened the door for her.

“That would ruin the surprise.” Tom turned around and closed the door behind them, locking it.

“Can’t you at least give me a hint?” she asked as they walked to the car.

“Ok, one hint.”

Vicky beamed, “Really? What?” She stopped at the passenger side door (which still felt weird to her to sit on the opposite side); she didn’t even try to open the door before he did now.

He opened the door, “We have to drive there.”

“You are horrible,” Vicky deadpanned and got into the car.

“But you like me anyway,” he reiterated and closed the door. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply.

Vicky had no idea where they were going, which was nothing new since she arrived. They drove out of the city, that much she knew. There were no mountains or familiar landmarks to help her orientate herself. There was lots of greenery, or it would be green if it wasn’t winter. She was looking out at the window, at the stars, thinking that she could learn the road system here and wouldn’t mind its craziness. Too much.

Something was brushing against her cheek, drawing circles on it. Her eyes fluttered open to find Tom looking at her softly with those wonderful blue eyes. “You fell asleep, my dear.” His right hand cupped her face; it was his thumb that was drawing circles on her cheek.

“I suppose I didn’t drink enough coffee,” she replied with a lazy smile.

He nodded, “I’m going to keep the car running while I get things set up, so you stay warm.” Tom got out of the car and went to the back. Vicky took the opportunity to look around her new surroundings. It was still dark, so wherever he took them it wasn’t far, she figured. Behind the car she could make out what looked like to be homes and in front of her was something flat, shiny and large.

Tom nearly startled her as he walked by with a folded chair that you’d see at the beach or camping and a blanket. He walked down a ways (following a path maybe?) and then put the chair down, unfolding it with one hand. Once the chair was set up he put the blanket on in and conformed it to the chair’s frame. He walked back to the car, to the driver side, opened the door and shut the car off. She tried to soak up as much warmth as she could before he came around and opened her door. “Ok, come on out.”

Vicky wished she had worn more layers as she stepped out into the cool morning air and stuffed her hand into her sweater pocket again. “I hope you have another chair, because I’d hate for you to sit on the ground.”

“We only need one chair for what I have planned.” Her eyebrows must have disappeared into her hairline, but Tom didn’t say a thing as he went to the trunk again and pulled out a couple more blankets, handing her one. “Come along.”

Vicky carefully picked her way down to where he had set up the chair, only placing her feet in the impressions Tom’s feet had made in the dew covered ground. He stopped in front of the chair and unfolded his blanket to wrap around him, but did not sit. She stood next to him, the blanket he had given her still in her arms.

“So is your plan to just stand here or are we going to fight over the one chair?” she asked, a little bite to her comment.

Tom frowned. “You’re still grouchy.”

“And you call this morning but I call it in the middle of the night.”

“Coffee,” Tom declared, “you haven’t had all your coffee yet.” With the blanket wrapped around him like a cloak he ran back to the car, grabbed her thermos, and came back. “Here, to wake you up.”

“You know, coffee isn’t always going to fix me in morning,” Vicky said gruffly, not realizing she was speaking as if they were going to have more mornings together. She undo the top, tucking her blanket under one arm to accomplish this.

Tom laughed a softer version of his signature laugh, as she was becoming to think of it. “I know, but it’s a good place to start I figure.” Vicky nodded and drank straight from the container with her now free arm, not really caring if he thought she was being rude or just American.

“Now come here.” He pulled gently on her arm as she drank and placed her in front of him so that her back was facing his chest. “Do you know what this place is?”

“It is not nature?” she quipped when she was finish, turning to place the now empty container on the ground next to the chair.

“Yes, but this is the pond that is said to have inspired C.S. Lewis when he wrote his books on Narnia,” Tom explained, “I know you can’t see much now but it is quite beautiful. I thought we’d sit here this morning and watch this place coming to life this Christmas Day. There is a dock further down the path that would have given us a better view but I didn’t trust it not to have frost on it.”

Vicky was still stuck on the C.S. Lewis part. She had told Tom on the way home Sunday that  _The Chronicles of Narnia_ was one of her favorite book series as a child, what had ignited her love for the written word in nearly all its forms.

“C.S. Lewis…” she began but wasn’t sure how to finish, or what she even was going to say.

“Yes, he used to own this pond and surrounding land, I am led to believe,” Tom replied. “It’s protected now.” When Vicky didn’t reply after a few moments he took a step closer to her and pulled her against him, his long arms engulfing her around her middle. He had to bend down a little to accomplish it, bringing his mouth closer to her ear. Her heart jumped and she did her best not to drop the blanket in her arms. “Let’s sit and watch the sunrise.” With his arms still wrapped around her he back them up and sat down in the chair, pulling her down and removed his arms to help her sit in his lap so that her back would be resting against his chest more comfortably, her legs parallel with his.

With the blanket he had wrapped around himself he included her in it, without prompting Vicky placed her own blanket over the top of them to cover them completely. When she was done fixing the blankets around them Tom’s arm found their home again around her middle. She let out a content sigh and leaned her head against his shoulder, her arms crossing over his.

She didn’t care about sunrises, great authors, or what holiday it was supposed to be in that moment. All she could think about how great, how right it felt to be held in Tom’s arms.

“Can you imagine,” Tom broke the silence. “Sitting here, watching the light break through the trees and suddenly, in your mind’s eye, there is a lion walking out from the tree and across the water heralding in a new day.”

“I’m not sure,” Vicky replied. She was fibbing of course. She could picture the scene Tom described, even if the sun hadn’t risen yet. “Tell me about, tell me everything.”

And Tom obeyed her, giving his version of how C.S. Lewis created Narnia as they sat at the edge of this pond. He painted it so vividly. As he spoke the water grew into the size of a lake and a castle, Cair Paravel, rose out from the middle of the lake, she saw the White Witch’s castle form in a corner of the area where the light that was just rising couldn’t touch it. The armies of the White Witch and Aslan came to edge of the pond-turned-lake awaiting battle. Tom then wiped the scene clean and began to retell the stories of Narnia, starting with the  _Magician’s Nephew_ , in his own words. In a few years from now, when Disney would make _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_  someone would ask her what her favorite version was: the movies or the books. She would always say the books, lying, because her favorite was Tom’s version by the lake of C.S. Lewis as he held her in his arms. It wouldn’t ever compare to the books or movies, and it just wasn’t right to rub it people’s faces that she had experienced the best version and they never could.

Perhaps one day she would sketch it. She wasn’t a terrible artist, more comfortable with abstract than life-like when it came to putting pencil to paper. Maybe one day, however, she could put what she saw in her mind’s eye to paper in an attempt to do it some justice.

Tom continued to regale her with the tales of Narnia until the sun began to finally rise over the pond, covering everything in a golden haze.

When he was done he rested his cool cheek against hers. “You know I have a theory,” Tom began.

“What kind of theory?” she asked. She wanted to turn her head to look at him, but refrained and leaned into his cheek with hers.

“That I know why the reason Susan was considered one of the most beautiful women in Narnia.”

“Why is that?”

“Because here, in our world, she would only be the second most beautiful woman,” Tom stroked his cheek against hers. “Do you want to know who the most beautiful woman is?”

“Helen of Troy?” she replied and he felt her smile.

He pulled his cheek away from hers and placed his lips at her temple. “No, my Winged Nike, you are.”

Vicky pulled her head away from his then. Her dark eyes locked on his and they looked a little hurt. “Don’t say things like that.” She made to stand up but he held her arms firmly around her waist.

“What if I mean them?” Tom questioned when she turned her angry gaze on him.

“I know I’m young, and probably very naive, but I’m not a fool. You can’t mean that, I admit I’ve been hoping you, whatever, but you’re – you’re…”

Tom didn’t let her finish and caught her lips with his. He realized as he kissed her that it didn’t matter how many girls you kissed or what little trick you can do with your tongue that makes them moan, or how many years separate you, when it’s the right person you’re kissing for the first time none of it matters. All that goes out the window and you feel like you’re having your very first kiss again. He was impatient and wanted more but didn’t want to scare her off, so with gentle but firm hands he placed them on her thighs and moved them so that her feet are draping down to his left, her torso facing his own. His left hand remained on her right thigh, kneading as he continued to kiss her. His other he moved to the small of her back, bring her closer to him.

When her tongue slipped into his mouth for a brief moment he was take completely by surprised. So much so that she withdrew hers before he could respond in kind. In retaliation he captured her bottom lip between his teeth and ran his tongue along it several times before giving it a gentle suck and letting it go. Vicky’s breath hitched for a moment, her hands, which had been gently holding on to his arms near his elbows, moved up to his shoulders. Then she removed her hands only to replace them with her forearms, so her lovely hands draped across the backs of his shoulders. He repeated capturing her lip, this time earning a little shake of her body and the press of her breast against his chest.

His hand that had been resting on her thigh shot up to her hip where he gripped her lightly in an effort to refrain from his own hips bucking. Fucking hell, they needed to stop or else they’d start something he hadn’t prepared for, or brought protection for. His brain didn’t listen completely though and allowed his hand that had been sitting on her waist to slip under her layers to rest on her bare skin just above her jeans while his other hand copied the action on her other hip. God Almighty, he wanted nothing more than to take his hands from her hips and run them up her soft stomach to her breasts, under her bra, and feel their glorious weight in his hands. Just imagining it as their lips danced together made him grip her sides just a little bit harder, not tight enough to hurt her but it helped him refrain from moving them.

This apparently signaled something to Vicky because she slowed her kisses down, her tongue languidly sliding against his before she pulled away, her breath heavy. Tom wasn’t ready to remove his lips from her skin. He placed soft kisses down her chin, across her jaw on her right side, down her neck before stopping where the curve of her neck and the fabric from her hood met.

The sun was higher in the sky when he finally drew his eyes up to her, its light dancing beautifully across her features. Her dark brown eyes looked almost black now, her cheeks were flushed and her lips were a beautiful shade pink that he’d continue to associate with her long after this day. He leaned his forehead against hers, their cold noses touching. One of her golden-tawny hands moved to the back of his neck to play with the curls there. He watched as she closed her eyes when he began to draw circles on her hips with his thumbs.

“’Winged Nike’?” she asked, breaking the silence first, her eyes still closed. She wasn’t mocking him, instead she sounded curious.

Tom smirked, “I thought I was clever and I know how you enjoy mythology. Victoria is after all the Roman equivalent of Nike. It was a little spur of the moment but isn’t that when the best terms of endearment are bestowed?”

“Hmm,” she hummed and he could feel the slight vibration run from her head to his. “It’s fine, as long as you don’t use it in public.”

Tom couldn’t resist and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Can I use it in private?” When her eyes finally opened and met his, he wiggled his eyebrows to show he was jesting – partially. She just hummed in response again.

They don’t discuss what this will mean for them when she eventually has to leave. They don’t want to think how things will change between them now. The two of them sit there, instead, holding each other with the quiet. The silence is only broken by bouts of kissing or looking at each other with wide grins on their faces and giggling like fools as they rearranged the blankets around them to stay warm.

Vicky once again broke the silence again and he was beginning to suspect that she was the more level headed of the two of them. “We should go before my parents get to your mom’s house.”

His kissed her cheek with a sigh, “If we must.” She didn’t wait and stood up; taking the blanket that had been draped over the front of them and donned it around her. Holding it close with one hand she bent down to grab her empty coffee container and walked back to the car. Tom quickly packed up the chair and his blanket and followed her.


	6. Chapter 6

**_25 December 2002, Still Christmas_ **

“I thought you got this for your brother,” Tom remarked as he unwrapped Will Smith’s  _Greatest Hits_  CD.

Vicky snorted, none to lady like. “What, did you think I’d actually tell you what I was buying was your gift? Please, give me a little more credit than that.” Tom laughed and pulled her into a one arm hug on the sofa they were occupying, his other still holding the CD.

The two had returned before anyone else had come out of their rooms. Vicky had suggested that they get back into their pajamas so as not to look suspicious, not that they were trying to hide anything. It had gone unspoken between the two that they’d keep what happened that morning quiet (mostly). So when all the occupants of the house had breakfast downstairs in their pajamas and robes, before Vicky’s family came over, not a word was said or asked about where Tom and Vicky went that morning because none were the wiser.

They were exchanging gifts now by the tree. Still, to them, it was as if they were in their own little world. The voices of their families danced around them but didn’t seem to break the happy little bubbled occupied by Tom and Vicky. That is unless their name was spoken directly to them. So the two sat in the room with loved ones around them

“This is perfect,” Tom continued to smile from ear to ear. Turning to his side he grabbed a flat package. “Now, open mine to you.”

Vicky rolled her eyes for show, but her heart was hammering against her ribs. When did he get her this? It was solid, nothing rattling inside whatever it was. “When did you get this?” she asked as she found an edge of the paper with her fingernail. The gift had definitely been wrapped by a male; there was way too much tape on it. She noted the little tag on it to mark who it is from and who it belongs to: “To: Nike, From: Tom”.

“If you address everything to me like this people will begin to think that I’m named after a shoe company,” she teased as she tore it open.

Tom leaned close her, so as she could only hear him speak, “Then I will just have to remind them that it was named after a goddess.”

“Right,” she said in response as she tore off the last of the paper. She looked down at the gift. It was two books, or rather a fresh sketch book and a collection of poetry by Pablo Neruda.

“I couldn’t resist when I saw them at the bookstore on Sunday. I purchased them while you were buried under a pile of books,” Tom confessed. “I know you only mentioned your drawings is passing, but I thought if the fancy stuck you while you were here you’d have something to scribble in. I couldn’t pass up the other when I came across it either.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Vicky grinned and gave him a peck on the cheek. She opened up the poetry book and saw that Tom had written a message on inside the cover in decidedly male writing.

_My Winged Nike,_

_May you enjoy these poems has I have enjoyed my time with you._

_Your humble acolyte,  
Thomas_

“This is perfect,” Vicky said and gave him a full hug.

As they separated the little bubble they were in popped. “We better get going,” Allen announced as he stood up. “Sorry to cut Christmas morning short, Diana.”

Diana waved him off. “No, no, don’t worry Allen. You have places to go.”

He thanked her and turned to Vicky. “Are you ready, Fred?”

Vicky bounced in her seat at the mention of her nickname and turned to look at her father. “Oh, yeah, let me run upstairs and get my things.” She gave Tom a little smile before getting up with a little skip and nearly running upstairs.

If it was just the two of them there he would have shouted after her, asking her what she meant by getting her things. Since their families were present, and shouting after her would be rude, Tom calmly stood up and without notice followed her upstairs.

He found the door to her room open but she wasn’t there when he entered. There was a garment bag on the bed. Where did she go?  _Where_  was she going?

“You look lost Tom,” Vicky said as she entered the room, a small green bag in her hand along with a hairbrush.

He ran a through his hair, “I was just wondering what you meant by getting your things.”

Vicky rolled her eyes, the corner of her lips twitched upwards, and went to the bed. She unzipped the bag and put her things in the bottom. “My step-grandparents are having a family friend take some family photos,” she explained.  “We’re taking them in Reading which means we have to leave now, go down there, and take the pictures before we head back up to Abingdon for the family dinner, all of this in an effort so we won’t be late to said big family dinner-slash-family reunion at, uh, Crazy Aunt Mildred’s house.” She zipped the bag up. “I guarantee we’ll be late though.”

“You’re coming back here tonight,” Tom confirmed.

“No, I wish to have Sylvia insult my intelligence and family to my face for the duration of my stay,” she wisecracked with another roll of her eyes. She went to reach for the bag but stopped for before actually picking it up. A sly look crossed her features and she sauntered over to him, making sure to sway her hips just a little more than necessary as she did so. Honestly, she had no idea where these bouts of confidence were coming from, but she sure enjoyed the fact that Tom was around when they happened. Right then, she felt confident enough to tease him. “Unless you don’t want me to come back here.”

She was attempting to look hurt, making her eyes go big, round, and glassy with the formation of tears. He almost believed her except that he saw her press her lips together in an attempt to not smile. Tom quirked a smirk of his own and caught her wrist, pulling her to him. He answered her by lowering his head and kissing her.

When they pulled apart she smiled up him, “Oh, yeah, I’m so coming back here tonight.”

“Good. Let me get your bag then.”

Back downstairs everyone was already saying goodbye with hugs and kisses by the front door. Tom had her garment bag draped over his right shoulder. He smiled seeing Braeden blushing as he hugged Emma and then Sarah.

“Good, there you are,” Laura said with a sigh. “Do you have everything, Vick?”

“Yup,” Vicky replied.

“Dress?” Laura asked.

“Yes.”

“Make-up, hairbrush, etcetera?”

“Sure do.”

“Shoes?”

“Ye – no. Crud, I’ll be right back,” Vicky said and ran back upstairs.

Allen laughed, “While she’s getting those why don’t you follow me out to the car with that Tom?”

“Right,” Tom said and followed the man outside.

Allen opened the boot of the rental car and took the bag from Tom. “I’m sure you’ve probably figured out by now that Vicky isn’t my flesh and blood,” he said as he arranged the bag inside the boot.

Tom was a little surprised by the statement, since there was no preamble leading up to it. “Yes, sir, she did tell me that you are really her uncle by marriage.”

“Good,” he closed the door and turned to Tom. The man was nearly Tom’s height, if not the same. His hazel eyes studied Tom before continuing on, “Vicky may not be my flesh and blood but that doesn’t make her any less my daughter,  **my**  little girl. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and you at her. I trust her. You however, coming from a father’s perspective, I do not trust you at all.” He let Tom absorb and think on that for a moment before he continued. His voice dropped and almost bordered on menacing. “I know you were raised right, you’re Di’s son after all, but you are still a boy. So know that if you hurt her, break her heart I will, as my brother-in-law would say, beat your ass to a pulp and make sure no one could find your body. Vicky is capable of handling herself, I’ve witnessed it, but don’t think I would not help.”

Tom just stood there, surprised, shock and slightly alarmed at the warning he had just received. “O-of course, sir, I mean – I would not – I  _will_ not, uh, sir.”

After Tom’s eloquent reply Allen looked him over for a moment before saying, “Right, then, glad we have an understanding.”

Tom was saved from saying anything further as the rest of Allen’s family came outside to join them.

“Dad,” Braeden moaned, “you didn’t start the car. It’s going to freezing in there.”

“You’ll live,” Allen replied with a chuckle.

Tom, snapping into action, opened the door for Vicky and Braeden for them to slip into the back seat. “See you later,” Vicky said as she walked up to the open car door. She gave his free hand a squeeze before getting in.

He didn’t say goodbye and instead just nodded his head because he was suddenly reminded that this gorgeous girl wasn’t staying permanently as the car drove away.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Aunt Mildred was one of those relatives that no one was entirely sure who she was related to by blood or by marriage anymore. Diana was fairly sure that Mildred was her great-aunt or great-great-aunt or a first cousin twice removed. In any case the woman was old, perhaps somewhere in her eighties, possibly nineties. She had children and grandchildren, possibly even great-grandchildren, but they had long ago moved to New Zealand and Australia for their work.

Most of Diana’s family knew her from the summer parties she held at her country home every year. Mildred had money, to say the least, so the festivities leaned toward the extravagant side. When she heard Allen and his family was coming over from the U.S. she had quickly made plans for all the family in the area to come to her home. However what surprised her relatives was how low-key she was going to have it – well, for Mildred that is.

Her home, manor really, had been professionally decorated for the occasion, the food catered but no staff had been hired, it was all in an effort to try and keeping it a (mostly) informal affair. Her family would be the “staff” needed. Mildred did insist that the men were still to wear suits and the women dresses or skirts because she didn’t want to see, “any member of my family wear those bloody damn denims everyone is so fond of inside my residence!”

Mildred’s manor was located at the end of a cul-de-sac and she had a decent size drive that parking was not an issue. Tom, his mother and sisters arrived at the same time as his cousin Zoe, who promptly latched herself to Sarah and Emma.

Inside the home Mildred greeted them warmly, telling them to enjoy themselves and that dinner would be served at five o’clock to accommodate late arrivals. She then flitted off, and Tom was surprised an eighty year old woman could still flit.

Besides the ostentatious Christmas decorations the scene was rather domestic. He could hear a television coming from somewhere, a small group of children ran by him as he made his way further in and finally to the back, beyond the conservatory, where he it looked like the a large group of cousins his age had made camp. There was a small canopy set up with tables and chairs, heat lamps arranged to keep the chill in the air away.

As soon as Tom stepped outside the glass doors of the conservatory he was greeted with a chorus of “Tom!” “Tommy!” and “Curly top!”

Tom laughed in return, greeting all present with a hand shake or a brief hug. The last cousin he greeted, Robert, handed him a beer.

“Cheers,” Robert said and clinked his bottle against Tom’s. “So have you seen these American cousins that have Aunt Millie’s knickers all wet?”

Tom was mid-swig and nearly choked at the unwanted mental image. “Yeah, I have actually,” he managed to say with minimal coughing.

“Where are they then?” a female cousin asked, he didn’t catch which one said it.

“They’re coming up from Reading,” Tom replied simply.

Lisa, Robert’s sister who sat next to him, laughed, “Typical Americans. Thinking that they can show up whenever they want.”

Tom opened his mouth to defend them but another cousin, again he didn’t see who exactly, had more tact and changed the subject. “So first that little part in that Kenneth Branagh film, now this Churchill movie with Vanessa Redgrave.” Tom finally finds the speaker. It’s Oliver, or as most called him Ollie. “At least you weren’t a Nazi this time. You were brilliant too.”

Tom laughed, “Thanks, I’m moving on up, mate.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Death, a horrible, slow painful death is what Sylvia deserved. Vicky glowered at the back of the woman’s head as they walked up to the front door. She was pretty certain that even her dad and Grandpa Leonard were ready to take her outback and put her down like a sick horse. This was a cruel comparison to make. The horse that is.

All day the woman had been making her normal remarks about Vicky. “If my figure was like yours I could never be as brave as you and wear  _that_ color.” “Well, I suppose they do need  _big_ , strong girls like you on their sports teams.” And her favorite of the day so far, “Someday I’m sure you’ll catch a boy’s eye, considering your complexion.”

Most of Sylvia’s comments were made in the few moments Vicky was caught alone with the bitch but the last comment Leonard and Allen had been standing behind her when she spoke, she having not realized they were there. Leonard had look horrified but tried to cover it up by saying, “What are you talking about Syl? There isn’t a blemish to be seen on her skin.”

Allen hadn’t said anything but and pressed his lips so thin that they disappeared in his beard. To anyone else he looked disapproving, Vicky knew her pseudo-adoptive father better and that the man was boiling inside.

Vicky wasn’t sure why Sylvia made the last comment, she wasn’t exactly racist, because no matter how Leonard played it off they all knew the old lady wasn’t talking about blemishes on her face (which was mercifully clear at the moment). Allen’s sister had married a Chilean businessman and lived in his home country. Sylvia adored Uncle Carlos. However it never failed for her to make at least one comment on Vicky’s heritage or about those of her shared heritage whenever she visited or, in this case, they visited her.

The comment about her complexion certainly wasn’t the last remark she made but after that it seemed her step-grandfather and father caught every one she made after that. Vicky had learned to develop a delayed reaction of sorts long ago. A comment would be made; Vicky would recognize it for what it was but say nothing and only fume about it later when no one was around. It was false to say they didn’t bother her, but she had learned not to deal with them in the moment or bad things happened. Leonard and Allen didn’t know the trick and had taken to trying to defend Vicky. This only seemed to make things worse as Sylvia started to branch out and make small remarks about Braeden and Laura.

On their way up, Vicky and Allen pulled the short straws and had to endure the entire ride up from Reading to Abingdon with her. While Laura, Braeden rode with Leonard. By some miracle of God the woman had fallen asleep for most of the ride but woke up when they were about two streets away from Mildred’s.

Optimism had burst through Vicky and she thought that Sylvia wasn’t going to say anything. Truth be told the woman wasn’t a troll all the time. Sometimes she was actually nice to Vicky and gave her encouraging comments. Maybe in the spirit of Christmas she’d give it up because Sylvia didn’t say one thing negative to her, about her, about anyone. It made her almost feel bad for hiding out at Diana’s.

Until Sylvia stepped out of the car, that is.

No sooner had Vicky shut her door and had taken a few steps did the dressing down begin.

“Now, don’t be discourage if none of the others your age speak to you right away,” said not but a few steps from the entrance. “They don’t know you.” Sound enough advice. Nothing horrible or mean spirited hidden in that message. Then she finished with, “There are a few handsome boys, I will admit, do not feel the need to throw yourself at them as it is I know your kind are want to do.”

Vicky’s jaw dropped and for fear of falling flat on her ass stumbled back, her father catching her elbow to hold her up. She couldn’t believe it. There…were just so…many things  **wrong**  with that. Too much in shock to respond properly she almost missed Allen rounding on his mother. Had the woman really alluded to her being a slut? Vicky knew the insult went deeper but her mind really couldn’t process beyond the “slut” part.

“MUM!” he shouted his face red with anger and his eyes flashing. “Don’t you  **dare**  say things like that to MY DAUGHTER!”

Sylvia had the gall to look surprised, like she didn’t expect him to have such a reaction. “Allen, really, I just –”

Leonard stepped up next to them, followed by Vicky’s mother and brother, the three of them looking confused. “Syl, what is going on?” her step-grandfather asked. How he could have missed that insult, to put it mildly, was amazing.

Vicky was not sure if Sylvia heard the question or just chose to ignore it. “She’s not your  _daughter_!” Sylvia shouted instead at her son. “She is no grandchild of ours! You shouldn’t have to take care of her sister’s,” she pointed back at Laura, “mistake.”

“Sylvia!” Leonard reprimanded his wife. Sylvia turned around and held a hand up to her mouth but let it drop, seemingly determined to carry on. “Leonard, you know it’s true,” her voice is soft but firm.

Leonard narrow his eyes as he approached Vicky and took her arm in his arm, a shielding hug. She looked up at him. Allen received his looks mostly from his father and like his son he also sported a beard. Leonard hair was still full, just starting to thin out, and more salt then pepper. His beard was a reverse in color, more pepper then salt. “That is a whole load of rubbish and you know it,” Leonard said, his arm tightening around Vicky’s. “Vicky is as much my,  _our_  granddaughter as any of that are of the flesh and blood of our children.” He looked down at Vicky when he continued. “Even before you came and lived with Allen and Laura I have always considered you family. When we came and visited during the summers and you stayed with them it was always a joy to see you. I will even admit to you that, before I retired, your picture was on my desk with my other grandchildren long before Allen and Laura became your guardians. I, like your father, wish that circumstances had been different and you came to join this family earlier.”

Vicky was near tears and she wiped at her eyes furiously, there was no way she was going to give the cow the satisfaction of seeing her truly cry. What a lovely Christmas Day this has been so far. Of course, what is any holiday without a bit of drama? She just wished it was more along the lines of some unmarried relative being questioned on when they were going to marry their boyfriend/girlfriend rather than learning how much her step-grandmother (should she even honor her with that moniker?) disliked her. And “disliked” was being kind.

Despite Leonard’s kind words to her, the air grew heavier between all of them. Laura was the one to break it.

“Let’s go inside, Braeden,” her mother said and tugged her son along. The pair passed them and went straight to the door.

“We should all go inside,” Allen said in turn and eyed his mother before turning to follow his wife and son. Sylvia looked between Allen and Leonard, as if she was confused as to what was happening and why they seemed to be upset with her.

“I’ll escort you inside, dear,” her grandfather (he deserved to be upgraded) said. He looked up at his wife. “I will inform Mildred that you and I will stay for dinner but have to leave immediately after words and won’t be staying for pudding. Then we may discuss this matter at home.”

Sylvia looked like a fish as her mouth open and closed several times before she turned and walked ahead of them. That’s when Vicky started to glare at the back of her head, wishing for her death (but not really) and that if karma was real then the woman deserved to come back as slug or an ant that is fried with a magnifying glass by a little boy.

She needed to calm down. She needed to take deep breaths. It wouldn’t do to get emotional now. She needed to focus on something trivial, compared to what her emotions and feelings were.

 _‘I look cute. My hair is nice. I looked good in the family photos. Also I am exceptionally happy with my butt today. It’s a nice butt. I like my butt.’_ With those thoughts making her smile, she walked into the home, her head held high.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mention and use of recreational drugs in this chapter. For those that speak/read Spanish all slang is of the Mexican variety.

**_(Still Christmas)_ **

When Leonard and Vicky crossed the threshold a little old woman was immediately upon them.

“Well aren’t you a gorgeous thing!” was the first thing out of her mouth as she spotted Vicky. “My, you are tall!”

Vicky couldn’t help but laugh, doing her best to put out Sylvia’s hurtful words. “I’m cheating. It’s the heels.” She pointed her leg to show her the black high heels that she wore. They had a slight platform so they took her from five-foot-five to at least five-foot-eleven. Vicky had been a tomboy for as long as she could remember, it was only in the past year that she started to really embrace her more traditional feminine side. She had been against heels of any height but once she discovered that they made her legs and ass look fantastic, and seemed to impart some sort of confidence in herself, did she take a liking to them. At her best friend Amy insistence, she wore them as often as she could. She liked the way they made her feel; powerful, tall, even a bit regal. The heels were for her but it was always a bonus when they caught the eye of the right guy.

“Those are lovely,” the little old lady replied. “If I was younger I would have a pair myself.”

“You know, Mildred, I am more than this pretty lady’s arm candy, as I have heard it said,” Leonard said with a laugh. He seemed to have put out his wife words as well, for now.

Ah, so this was Crazy Aunt Mildred. She didn’t seem so bad. She was probably a few inches shorter then Vicky, sans heels. Her hair, while completely white, was beautifully styled on her head in a short cut that showed off her curls. Vicky suspected it was a perm. Aunt Mildred also had those wonderful little smile lines at the corner of her eyes. She didn’t look crazy.

“Tut-tut, that’s what all men are good for, to make the woman look better,” she shared a conspiring grin with Vicky. “Where are my manners? I’m Mildred.” She held her hand out to Vicky.

“I’m Vicky, Allen and Laura’s daughter,” she said in return, and gently shook Mildred’s hand.

Mildred practically beamed at her. “Vicky! Lovely name, don’t mind me if I slip and call you Victoria. I have always been partial to that name. Since it is your first time to my home I have to ask if you’d like a tour.”

“Yes, of course” Vicky replied with a smile of her own.

“Wonderful, come with me, we’ll start with the rooms upstairs,” replied Mildred. Leonard held up his hand to stop her but they are gone before Mildred got a chance to notice.

Vicky knew the house was large but she wasn’t expecting it to be this big. There were five large rooms upstairs, technically there were a total of seven but you could only reach the other two from the ground level. Only a few, it seemed, were being used as bedrooms. The first door Mildred opened has been turned into a hunting trophy room.

Vicky couldn’t help it when the words, “My, what a lovely room of death,” tumbled out of her mouth. She took a couple of steps into the room, to be polite, but didn’t go in farther.

Mildred sighed, “I know. My Howard loved to hunt.”

Assuming that Howard was her husband, and probably late husband by the tone, she didn’t say anything as she quickly observed the stuffed animals displayed around the room and mounted to the wall. She didn’t really have anything against hunting per se but she wasn’t overly fond of it. Vicky also really wasn’t a fan of mounted animals.

“I just haven’t been able to bring myself to change it,” Mildred continued. “Maybe one day, however that day is not today. Let us move on. Would you like to see my library?”

Vicky perked up, “Library?”

Mildred smiled at Vicky and led her out the room. The library wasn’t especially big but all four walls were covered in floor to ceiling, custom-built bookshelves. Vicky’s heels clicked as she walked across the wood floor to admire the books. She walked next to the bookcases, made her way around a few wingback chairs, as her fingertips admiringly, lightly passed over the book spines. She was trying not to look too closely at the titles because she knew what happened when she was around books. There was that inevitable pull to investigate each book, regardless if it was something that truly interested her or not.

“These are gorgeous,” Vicky commented as she made her way back to Mildred, unable to keep the smile off her face.

Mildred practically beamed at her. “I take it you are a fellow bibliophile as well?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Let’s just say it’s not unheard of losing me in a bookstore for several hours. If we had an extra room in our home I would definitely do my best to turn it into something at least as half as nice as this.”

The older woman clapped her hands together as she made an excited little gasp and Vicky had a sneaky suspicion that if she was a dozen or so years younger that she might have actually done a little dance. “Child, you, oh, you must come back and visit me. I will talk to your parents.” She looked at the watch she had on her left wrist. “Dinner is to start soon. Come, you can see the rest when you come back this summer, I’m sure your parents will allow you.”

Mildred made sure that Vicky was following her as she began to talk about what they’d do next summer and where she’d take her. There was mentions nearby Oxford, and several other different school names dropped. Wales was spoken of and a name of a town that she is pretty sure was in Brittany somewhere as Mildred planned out loud, her voice getting more and more excited. All of it was very overwhelming to even think about, given that she had only just met this pseudo relative. By the time they get downstairs Mildred was talking so quickly and all over the place that Vicky had given up trying to follow and had taken to just nodding and smiling. She wondered if this is why the family had taken to calling her Crazy Aunt Mildred.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tom scanned the heads for a certain brunette as everyone milled about trying to find a place to sit. He knew she had to be there, he’d greeted her father (not an awkward moment, thank you) and her mother. Braeden had rushed by him while following the other children to the designated children’s table.

“You’re sitting by me,” he heard Aunt Mildred say and she passed by him.

“Um, all right,” came a reply and he recognized the voice.

Well, damn.

Vicky certainly looked different then when he saw her that morning, not that she had look horrible before. But now. . . Her dark hair had been curled so it fell softly to her shoulders. While she wasn’t the only one wearing a red dress, he thought she wore the color the best. It was actually a very modest looking dress that went to her knees, short sleeved and a neckline that showed off just a tease of cleavage but because of the way it formed against her body it was the sexiest dress. Her ample chest was tastefully on display and the way it clung to her waist and flared out at her hips was just perfect.

Tom’s eyes travelled down and he nearly let out a groan. The lines her legs cut while in those heels was nearly sinful. He had never really thought of calves being particularly sexy but he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on hers before he moved his hands up her leg.

_Eh-hem._

Thank all the holy places they weren’t related.

Yes, the black high heels were nice and would make it easier for him ravish her lips later when they found a moment to slip away. He was definitely going to make sure that they would have a moment, or two. Or three.

While Tom was busy imagining running his hand up Vicky’s legs, and other things, he failed to see his cousin Robert make his way towards her. When he did notice it was obvious Robert was trying to flirt with her. He could hear her introduce herself as Allen and Laura’s niece, an over simplification of her relationship with them but something he had come to learn she would do for convince sometimes.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath and made his way over to Vicky.

Robert was holding the chair out for Aunt Mildred. Tom used his long legs to advantage as he quickly dodged around several relatives to get to her side before Robert had the chance to turn around.

She didn’t hear or see him come up to her side as Vicky was listening to Mildred speak about the pudding they were having after dinner as she slowly made her way into her chair. Tom couldn’t help but smirk as he placed a hand on her waist and she jumped, her head turning to look back at him, her dark eyes startled until they met his.

“Nike,” he breathed into her ear, still smirking. He caught Robert’s look out of the corner of his and boldly place a kiss on her cheek. A small display of affection but enough to get his message across to his cousin: Vicky was his (for now).

“Tom, give a girl a heart attack why don’t you?” Vicky nervously laughed.

He smiled and did his best not to look at her lips, they nearly matched her dress, so as to avoid making out with her right there. “Sorry, well, I’m not truly sorry,” he held out her chair. “Would you mind if I sit next to you?”

“I insist,” Mildred answered for her, a conspiratorial grin on her weathered face.

Robert, who had been standing behind their aunt’s chair shot Tom another glare and went to take the seat across from Vicky. Tom only gave him a subtle shrug as if to say, “You’re too late.”

During dinner Robert still had not given up. He kept flirting with Vicky; she’d brush him off or sweetly take the comment at a platonic level. Mildred sat back and watched the exchange looking quite amused at Robert’s efforts. Tom was half-amused and half-annoyed. His apparent victory didn’t come until dinner was almost over. Vicky was talking to Robert and Mildred while Tom spoke with Robert’s mother, who sat across him. He wasn’t really sure of the reason he did it or if there really was a reason. Vicky’s hand was playing with the stem of her glass absently, her wrist exposed. Tom, talking to another relative, without second thought reached over and started to trace invisible designs on the exposed skin of her wrist.

Vicky giggled and captured his long fingers in her. “Stop that Tom, it tickles.”

Tom blinked a couple times before he realized what he had been doing and grinned to see their entwined fingers. “Sorry, darling.”

Vicky rolled her eyes and went back to her conversation. Before Tom returned to his own he caught Robert’s eye. The man gave him a small nod to say that he’d back off.

No one on their end noticed the glared that Sylvia was shooting at the clasped hands of Vicky and Tom.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dessert long ago had been served and finished, a few people leaving shortly afterwards, mostly those with young children or those around Aunt Mildred’s age. Allen’s parents the only ones leaving before dessert was served. Those that remained were mostly Tom’s age-mate cousins; they had mostly retreated to the conservatory. His sisters, his mother, his mother’s sister, Allen, Laura, Braeden and a few others of his mother’s generation were in the sitting room. Tom and Vicky had joined the older relatives in the sitting room at Mildred’s request.

“Thomas,” Mildred said, calling his attention to her.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Have you seen my library, recently?”

Tom had to think on it before answering. “I don’t believe I’ve been in there since I was at Eton.”

Mildred smiled at him. “Well, you simply must see it now. I have acquired some wonderful editions of Shakespeare’s works as well as a few others. You’re mother says you’re going to school to be an actor, I thought you might find them interesting.”

This did pique Tom’s interest. “Yes, that does sound like something I would like to see.”

The old woman turned her gaze on to Vicky. “Victoria, my dear, would you mind showing Thomas to the library? I know you must have spied the books I mentioned since we were just up there earlier.”

Vicky looked confused and unsure as she answered, “Yes, right.”

When neither made an immediate attempt to leave Mildred dismissed them saying, “Off with the both of you then. The adults wish to talk.” As they left the room Tom could have sworn that the old bat gave him a wink.

Tom had no idea that watching a woman walk upstairs could be such torture. He licked his lips as he watched the muscles in her calves smoothly glide under her skin, the way her hips swayed from side to side, even the way her fingers gently gripped the banister had him thinking of her hands on other things.

“So this is the library,” Vicky said as she opened the door when they finally arrived. “You already knew that, of course, but I’ve kind of always wanted to say that.” She still sounded unsure as to why Mildred had set her the task of showing Tom it. She walked to the middle of the room, her heels clicking on the wooden floor until they were muffled by the rug in the middle. She paused and briefly looked around. “I don’t know what Mildred was talking about. I was only up here for a few minutes earlier.” She strode forward to look at the book spines on the nearest bookcase, her heels sounding on the wooden floor again as she left the rug. “I have no idea what she was talking about down there but I’m sure we can find those books if we look for them.”

She turned around to look at Tom, only to find him closer then she thought, the door closed behind him. She let out a little gasp in surprise. “I’m going to put a freaking bell around your neck if you keep doing that,” she laughed as he walked forward. “At least this time I caught you before you could really scare me.”

Tom only chuckled as he walked slowly made his way over to her, hands in his pockets. It gave Vicky enough time to admire him. His suit jacket had been abandoned sometime earlier that day leaving him in only his dress pants, pale green shirt and coordinating tie. It made his blue eyes look green. He looked great though, really great.

“Have I told you that red looks great on you?” he said, nearly to her.

Vicky smiled, “No, but it is my favorite color so maybe that explains it.”

He shook his head and ran his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, no I am convinced this color way made for you. If I had my way you would wear something red all the time.”

She had barely heard what he was saying. Her eyes had strayed to his bottom lip. Really, that was just not right that he could make something so simple seem so damn sexy. Vicky gave herself a mental shake as she registered what he said.

“If you had your way, is that right?” Vicky laughed softly. “That’s awfully presumptuous.”

He shrugged in response. “I would also like to add that you are probably the reason wondrous shoes like those you are wearing were created for.”

“Is that so?” Her voice was flirtatious and teasing, which surprised her a little. It had to be the confidence said shoes were giving her. “You know you’re going to give me a real complex if you keep saying things like that.” Her back hit the bookcase, which really did surprise her because she didn’t realize that for every step he had taken forward she had taken a matching one back.

“I only speak the truth.” Tom stopped right in front of her, his eyes travelling over her face as if he was caressing her with them. He took his hands out of his pockets and placed them on her hips. His blue eyes, masquerading as green, met hers and searched them. “I want to know what you are thinking.”

“I am thinking that Aunt Mildred isn’t really crazy but is one rather crafty old lady,” she replied before she closed the distance between them and crashed her lips against his.

He nearly sighed when her lips met his, his hands on her hips bringing her closer to him, he could feel her hands on his stomach. He brought a hand from her hips to cup the back of her head as he deepened the kiss and parted her lips with his tongue. He could taste the lingering flavor of that night’s dessert on her as he slid his own against hers. Tom felt the thumb from her right hand sneak its way between two of the buttons on his shirt and trace circles on his stomach. The touched surprised Tom and he jumped a little from the contact. He could feel Vicky’s lips smile against his before she took his bottom lip between her teeth and give it a little bite before she gently sucked on it.

Tom couldn’t suppress the groan and thrust his hips against hers, the hand that was still on her hip slowly made its way up her side and before he reached her breast he moved it to her back to bring her closer to him. He could have sworn he heard her whimper in disappointment when he diverted his path from breast. It was his turn to grin.

A knock at the door disturbed them. “Are you in there Tom?” Robert’s familiar voice came. Tom started considering on disowning his cousin.

“Yeah, mate,” Tom called as he pulled away from Vicky. He didn’t look at the door but instead studied Vicky’s face. Her cheeks were flushed, dark chocolate eyes practically ebony, and the way she breathed was making him wish now he hadn’t made his hand veer to her back. Tom moved the hand that was at the back of her head to where her neck and shoulder met, his thumb resting on her neck. He could feel her rapid pulse coming from under her skin.

“Make sure you’re decent, we’re all heading down to the pub. We’re out of beer and Crazy Millie won’t let us into her good stuff,” Robert said.

“Right,” Tom turn his head to look at the door this time. “Be down in a minute.” Turning back to Vicky he placed a soft kiss on her lips. “You want to go to a pub?”

Vicky bit the left corner of her bottom lip, her thumb still on his stomach but was resting, and chuckled. “I suppose. Not like we can hide out in here any longer.”

“We could, but you’re right. We’ve been discovered. They wouldn’t give us any rest.” He moved the hand that was on her back to her hip once again.

Her eyes flashed to his lips before meeting his again. “Yes, because ‘resting’ is what you had in mind.”

His hand on her neck moved to cup her face as he began to trail kisses along her jaw and down her neck. “Now that you mention it…”

There was a knock on the door again. “C’mon mate, we’re getting ready to leave now.”

Vicky sighed and slipped to the side, out of his grasp, giving him a soft smile as she started to walk to the door. “Let’s go, before he comes back with a battering ram.”

“I’ll give you a battering ram,” Tom teased as his long legs carried him toward her quickly. She took a little jump forward as his hands almost took hold of her waist and despite her heels sprinted for the door and out in to the hallway, laughing as she escaped.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Leaving for the pub was easier said than done. She and Tom tried to sneak out first but Vicky’s eagle eye mother saw them, but only called Vicky over.

“Wait outside for me,” Vicky said to Tom before going to her mom. “That way I can use you as an excuse to escape.” Tom nodded and said he was going to get his jacket.

Turned out that her mom, a little buzzed from the “good stuff” that Mildred was allowed the parental group to indulge in, wanted her to tell everyone how she caught that one fly ball last year. So Vicky sighed, and told them how she had been an outfield position last season for softball, not really thinking anyone currently present (besides her parents) followed softball or its brother baseball, and caught an game defining ball from the opposing school team’s best hitter. It was a game early in the season and had earned her promotion to varsity where she remained the rest of the year and earned her letter in the sport. Then her mother asked, after everyone gave the appropriate amount of praise, if Tom liked the library.  Vicky hoped the blush she felt on her cheeks as she thought about what they had been doing upstairs wasn’t that visible as she told her mom that Tom seemed to enjoy it.

“Tell him that he can barrow any of my books when he wants,” Mildred told her.

Vicky gave her a polite smile, cheeks still burning. “I will let him know.”

Allen cleared his throat to garner her attention. “I see all the kids are going somewhere.” It really wasn’t a question, but she knew what her father meant.

“Uh, yeah, we were going to go for a drive. Just around town, you know, create a ruckus by yodeling out the window or something.” Vicky didn’t want to mention that the yodeling would probably be done after they left the pub and someone was royally drunk off their ass, hanging out the window.

Allen laugh, “Right, be safe. Try to stay out of trouble.”

Vicky smiled at her dad, “I’ll try.”

“You better,” he replied.

She rolled her eyes at him and said her goodbyes to everyone in the room. The cool night air greeted her and she wished that she had brought a coat with her. Arms across herself, so she could rub her hands up and down them, she made her way over to the three cars that were now in the driveway. As she got closer she saw a few people smoking. Vicky slightly grimaced. She wasn’t the biggest fan of smoking but really her only protest of the night against it was because she didn’t want her dress to smell like it. Of course, she theorized, if she was going to pub there was bound to be smoking there. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.

She found Tom leaning against the side of a black Land Rover, puffing away as well. “Hey, sorry I took so long.”

Tom grinned, slightly goofily, “That’s all right darling.” He held open the door the back passenger door for her and then proceeded to get into the front passenger seat.

It turned out it was Robert’s car as he greeted her from the driver seat with a smile. His sister Lisa, as Tom introduced her, sat in the back with her.

“So you’re the American girl that has got poor Tom here straining in his pants,” Lisa said as she puffed away, Robert started the car and pulled out on to the street. “Very rude of you not to introduce yourself earlier, but I don’t think they teach you those things in the U.S.so you’re forgiven.”

Vicky’s face turned red again, this time from a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “Sorry, Aunt Mildred kind of pounced on me as soon as I arrived to give me a tour of the house. She didn’t really let me out of her sight.”

“Be nice,” Tom warned Lisa from the front.

Lisa rolled her eyes, “If I must.”

Wow, what her luck today. First Sylvia and now Lisa, her stars must have been majorly misaligned.

Vicky took a deep breath to calm herself and nearly choked. She didn’t know why she didn’t notice it earlier, God the smell alone gave it away.

“What are you smoking?” she asked, sincerely hoping that they were smoking really bad flavored cigarettes.

“Cannabis,” Lisa drawled.

“Right, pot, thought so,” Vicky said and tried to roll down her window but found it locked. Shit.

“You want one?” Robert asked and pulled from his jacket a rolled joint.

Vicky shook her head. “No, I’m all right. Uh, thanks though.” She tried to hold her breath for short periods of time, hoping to minimize the contact high she was sure she was going to have now.

Lisa let out something that sounded like a grunt. “Boo, you’re no fun.”

“She doesn’t have to have one Lisa,” Tom reasoned taking a deep drag from his joint and blew out a long stream of smoke. “Leave Vicky alone.”

Again Lisa rolled her eyes and then Vicky saw something shift in them. This was not going to end well. “Oh, come one, don’t be such a prude. Have mine; there is still quite a bit left.” Lisa leaned across the seat and held her marijuana cigarette out.

Shaking her head she said, “Still a no, not going to change.”

Lisa, the joint still held out to Vicky, turned her head to Tom. “You know how to pick them Tom. This one has a stick up her ass.”

Tom turned around in his seat, a frown on his face. “Hey, I happen to like that ass. It’s very lovely.” Then he descended into a fit of giggles.

Vicky closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, great Tom was useless now. “Look, I don’t want any pot. Let’s just get to the pub, huh? You know, I’ve never really been to one.”

Lisa turned her attention back to Vicky. “Don’t be such an old maid. Just take it.” She shoved it in Vicky’s face.

“No.”

“Lisa,” Robert warned this time.

This seemed to make Lisa angry and she lunged across the backseat trying her hardest to push the thing into Vicky’s mouth. “Bitch, just take it!”

Several things happened at once. Robert, with his eyes still on the road, tried to reach back and pull his sister off Vicky. Tom turned around in his seat once again and tried to grab Lisa’s hand with the joint in it away. And Vicky did the only thing she could think of; she slapped Lisa.

Except her hand was closed so it was actually more of a punch.

“Fuck!” Tom cried and ended up pulling Lisa off her all together.

“Shit, what just happened?” Robert asked, not daring to look back.

“You bitch, you just punch me!” Lisa cried with both hands held to her face where Vicky hit her. The joint lost on the floor somewhere.

” _Pinche puta!_ ” Vicky yelled at Lisa. “ _Estoy hasta la madre!_  Stop this fucking car right now and let me out!” When Robert kept driving she yelled again, “ _Cabron_  if you don’t stop this car right now I will rip your  _huevos_  right from between your legs!”

Robert, who may not have known exactly what  _huevos_  were but knew that he wanted to keep them if they came from between his legs, slammed on the brakes and as soon as the car stopped Vicky open the door, got out and slammed it behind her, walking away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning/Trigger: Mention of drug use in this chapter. It’s my first NSFW chapter and does change the rating of this story from T to M. I haven’t written smut in ages so forgive me if it’s a little awkward and/or just plain bad. It also involves a consenting teenager under the age of 18 with a 21 year old adult, though above the age of consent (16) in England, where this chapter takes places.

**_Christmas Day 2002, in the evening_ **

“What the hell just happened?” Robert asked again.

Lisa screamed and kicked the back of Robert’s seat. “That American whore punched me! I could bruise!”

Tom rounded on Lisa, his eyes flashing with anger. Lisa squeaked at seeing his expression and had the common sense to shut her mouth. “You will not speak about Vicky like that! And what did you expect? You were practically shoving that thing down her throat.”

“I-I was just trying to get her to lighten up,” Lisa replied in a small voice.

Tom shook his head and opened his door. “Real fucking mature Lisa,” he got out of the car and looked around, quickly finding Vicky by her red dress as she walked back the way they came. “Vicky, wait!” He called as he jogged after her. She didn’t respond or turn around, her heels making grinding noises from her putting her feet down hard as she traversed across the asphalt.

His idiot cousin closed the door behind him and drove off, not offering assistance to Tom or Vicky.

As Tom got closer he heard her muttering under her breath in what he assumed to be Spanish. “You know, I think I might have to learn Spanish just to understand what you’re saying.” 

Vicky, who had her arms crossed in front of her, didn’t look at him. “Not for the stuff I’m saying.”

“Are you all right?” he asked falling into step with her.

“No, I’m not all right,” she replied, her voice hard.

He shoved his hands into his pockets again. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t take it.” Tom made the mistake of chuckling, and the whole sentence he uttered was probably a mistake too.

Vicky stopped and turned on the points of her high heels to him, her dark eyes looking like they were on fire. “Because,  _Tom_ ,” she said his name as if she was talking about slime. “It doesn’t matter if its sexual advances or being pressured to take drugs,” her teeth were clenched now, so tight that he feared she might break them, only her lips moving as she spoke, poking his chest as she did so. “When a girl says no she fucking means no, not ‘oh, I’m playing coy,’ or ‘try again using a different tactic,’ n-to-the-mother fucking-o means  **NO**!”

He wasn’t sure if her stride normally carried her that quickly or it was if was because of the heels (which he was then thoroughly surprised she could walk so fast in) that extended their length but she was quickly walking away from him faster than anyone he had ever seen without moving their arms back and forth. She was practically running, he decided.

“Vicky,” he called after, still she didn’t stop. “Nike!” he called instead.

She didn’t stop or turn her head but yelled back at him, her arms crossed again, “You don’t deserve to call me that right now, Hiddleston!”

Tom cursed and jogged again to meet up with her. “Look, Vicky, I’m sorry. You’re right, you really are and I’m a tit for suggesting otherwise.”  She didn’t reply.

They walked in silence for a while before he offered his jacket to her. She shook her head and said, “No, I don’t want to smell like that crap.”

“What about your dress then?” Tom asked.

“I’m hoping the walk back to Mildred’s will air it out enough.” She still hadn’t looked at him, her arms firmly planted across her chest.

Tom cleared his throat and dared to speak again. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but why  _didn’t_  you want to smoke?”

Vicky was quiet for a long while. He thought she wasn’t going to answer him. “Because of my cousin, Gabriel,” she finally said. Tom didn’t say anything in return, hoping she’d explain herself. She did.

“I don’t really feel like telling you more about my past but for the sake of explanation I’ll tell you this. My cousin Gabe is…was a genius. He probably still is but he’s not going to get anywhere in life now. Gabriel is six years older then I and was my idol growing up and like my big brother. I’ve seen firsthand how just marijuana alone has destroyed his life. Which is hilarious when I hear people say it’s not addictive.” He could hear her voice hitch as she continued on. “I swore to myself that I would never end up like him, as much as I love him I wasn’t going to be a slave to something like that. I made a promise to myself to never touch drugs. It may sound stupid or idiotic or whatever you want to call it but so far I have kept that promise to myself and have no intention of breaking it anytime soon.”

“I see why your parents give you so much freedom,” Tom said after a few moments of silence.

She shifted her arms but didn’t unfold them. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you are your own police, I don’t suppose they have to govern you much.”

Vicky let out a short laugh. “No, they don’t.”

He wanted to know why that was; much like he wanted to know everything he could about her since they met just a few days ago. (Had it only been a few days ago?) Tom though could read from the stiff lines of her body and the way she her footsteps fell heavy on the ground that she was not up for talking. The walk, while not a great distance, seemed like it went on for miles.

“Huh, looks like my family has left,” Vicky commented as they went from the street to the drive. It was the first thing she said in a long while.

“My mum and sisters appear to still be here,” he replied in turn.

Before they reached the door Vicky stopped several meters short. Tom turned and looked back and her. “Vicky?”

“I’m tired,” she simply said.

He nodded, “I’ll go inside to let them know we’re heading out.” She nodded and started to walk to his car.

Inside the house it was mostly empty. Where his mother had been sitting earlier with her group it was now just Sarah and Mildred.

“Thomas, you’re back early. Did the pub kick the lot of you out already?” Mildred said when she spied him.

“Oh, no, nothing such as that, Vicky wasn’t feeling well so we came back. I was just going to let my mum know I was leaving.”

Sarah shook her head. “I think both Emma and Mum had too much to drink, which isn’t saying much since Mum is a light weight and Emma has never really had that much,” she explained. “Aunt Mildred is kindly putting them up for the night. I’m staying here too so that way they have a ride back in the morning.”

“Oh.”

“Take Vicky back to Mum’s,” Sarah said. “Can I butt into your life though, for a moment?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Depends on what you plan to say.”

“I think you and Vicky are moving too fast. I know that’s not like you Tom but I know she isn’t manipulating you, from what I’ve seen, so I have only one piece of advice: don’t hurt her. I thought at first, you know after your break up, she’d do the damage but now I realize it might be the other way around. I think most people, it seems, tend to forget her actual age. So whatever you two have going on just remember that I don’t want either of you to get hurt.” She gave him a smile that reminded him of his mother. “I don’t think I’ve shown it that well but I actually do like her.”

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The car ride was fairly quiet, except for the radio which Tom had turned the volume down to low, the Christmas tunes softly playing through it.

Once inside his mother’s house Vicky announced she was going to take a shower and went promptly upstairs. Tom sighed, not sure what to do. Hearing her turn on the shower he quickly went to where his things were, grabbed his pajamas and went to his mother’s en suite to take a quick shower as well. He had a plan.

When Vicky came into her room he was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing blue and gray stripped bottoms with an old Eton shirt. Her lovely red dress was balled up in one hand, her black heels hanging from the other. “Tom?” she asked confused as she deposited both them inside a mesh laundry bag unceremoniously. He realized she must not have realized she put her shoes in there.

As soon as her hands were free he stood and walked over to her, looking her over her, dressed in blue and black plaid flannel bottoms and a light blue top vest.

“Vicky, I’m sorry,” he took her tawny hands in his pale ones. “I never meant to hurt you or insult and that was never my intention – ”

She laughed, not a mocking laugh, but it sounded tired. “Tom, stop. I got over it a long time ago.” She kept her eyes diverted from his. “I’m more upset with myself then anything.”

“You have every right to be upset with me, with my cousins, especially with the way Lisa was acting, but not with yourself,” he protested.

“Oh, no, I’m still pretty damn upset with her about that,” she chanced a look at him before looking away again. “The ‘Latin temper’ and everything, I suppose. Can’t say I won’t slap her the next time I see her.”

He brought his right hand up and placed one finger under her chin, lifting it so he could look her in the eyes. “What is it then?”

“I’m upset with myself,” she tried to pull her head away but he placed his thumb on her chin to keep her from turning away. “I don’t like getting emotional in front of people, especially someone like you.”

His eyebrows knitted together, “Why?”

“I feel weak, as if I’m some little girl that can’t take care of herself.”

Tom leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “You are hardly weak, Vicky. You’ve proven physically tonight that you can definitely take care of yourself. I know Lisa will have proof of that and Robert I don’t think has ever been more scared in his entire life then when, I presume, you threatened to rip his balls off.” They both chuckled at that. “You have a strong character, and you stand by what you believe in. I admire that. I know you’re not ready to tell me yet what exactly you have gone through to become this amazing person I’ve had the honor to get to know, but I know that without those experiences, good or bad, you would not be this wonderful person you are.” He placed another peck on her lips. “There is more reason behind my calling you Nike then just the origins of your name. I also want you to know that you should feel comfortable with being emotional in front of me because I will never think less of you.”

Vicky stood on her toes and kissed him this time. “If the acting thing doesn’t work out I think you’ll have a wonderful career in politics.” She chuckled and he saw something come back into her eyes, he couldn’t help but laugh as well.

The hand that was under her chin moved to cup her cheek, his thumb gently running over her skin. “You look tired.”

She gave him a soft smile, “Hmm, yes, what every girl wants to hear.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Tom corrected with a soft smile. “I was just wondering if you wanted to go to bed.”

Her dark eyes closed and she leaned into his hand. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m up for watching a late night movie. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he reassured her. “I do have a request.”

Still leaning in his hand she opened her eyes to gaze up at his blue ones. “Which is?”

“Can…Can I sleep in here with you?” he asked and then quickly went on before she could answer. “My mum and sisters aren’t going to be here, as you know, and I just thought it would be, um, nice.”

Vicky turned her head so she could kiss the palm of his hand that held her. “You are very cute when you’re nervous.”

“Cute,” Tom repeated and smirked.

She nodded her head. “Yes, like a puppy.” Then she laughed and pulled herself from his grasp and went out into the hallway saying, “I have to take out my contacts.”

Unsure of what to do, not sure if he should sit on the bed and wait for her or crawl under the covers, he went downstairs and made sure all the doors were locked then went back upstairs.

Back in the room Vicky must have realized she put her shoes in the bag as she was fishing them out and setting them on the floor by the foot of the bed. It gave him a great view of her ass. He was debating on whether or not to sneak up on her by caressing her bottom when she stood up. Tucking a lock of damp sable hair behind her ear she stood up and turned around, smiling at him.

Tom loved it when she smiled at him. It made him feel like they were the only ones in the world.

“Hey,” Vicky greeted him, still smiling, “I was wondering where you went off to.”

He closed the door and crossed the room to her. “I was just making sure everything was locked up for the night.”

“How responsible of you,” she remarked.

A faux pout graced his lips. “That sounded an awful like sarcasm.”

“Maybe,” she drawled out, trying to sound innocent.

Tom placed his hands at bottom of her his, slipping his thumbs under the hem of her top to rest them on her hipbones. “That’s not very nice. I don’t know if I want to sleep in here then.”

Vicky shrugged, “Ok then.” She slipped from away from his hands and went across the room to turn off the main light, leaving only the bedside lamps on. “I’ll see you in the morning then.” Walking past him again, with a smirk on her face, she went to the right side of the bed and started to turn down the covers.

“I don’t think so,” Tom said taking a few long strides to stand behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, effectively stopping her from crawling into bed.

Vicky slumped in his arms, her back resting against him. “Tom,” she groaned-whined and rested her head against his chest. “I know you were joking, I was just trying to be funny. I’m tired, let’s go to bed please?”

Tom curled his arms around her tighter and held her up straighter, placing a kiss at the bend of her neck and left shoulder, then sucked the skin there very gently and briefly, not enough to leave a mark. He knew better to leave a mark where someone, like her father, could see it.

Vicky let out a soft moan. “Did you like that?” She nodded and tilted her head more to the right. Tom took the hint and moved up her neck. This time he trailed a slow line of soft kisses up her neck to where he could feel her pulse beat just below her jaw. He caressed her skin there with the tip of his tongue. In his arms he felt her skin take a small as a chill, her skin becoming goose flesh.

Loosening his hold around her slightly so that she could turn in his arms, her hands slid up his chest, ghosted over his shirt until they settled at the base of his neck. Two of her fingers began to play with his hair. “That tickled.” The way the last word slipped passed her lips let him know that it did more than just tickled.

“Where else are you ticklish?” he asked as he backed her up to the bed. The back of her knees hit the bed and she fell backwards, her dark damp hair splaying out around her. Tom leaned down, bracing himself up over her, his hand on either side of her shoulders.

Vicky smiled up at him, as her hands wrapped around his biceps. “I’m not telling you.”

Tom’s right eyebrow rose. “So I’ll have to find out myself?” She didn’t answer him, opting to bite her bottom lip as her eyes tracked his movements. “What about your stomach?” Again she didn’t answer him but she shook her head in a small attempt to convince him that her midsection was indeed not ticklish.

Her flannel clad legs draped over the edge of the bed at her knees. He stood back and used his own knees he parted them, he brought his hands down to her stomach he slowly he lifted up her tank top. The quick rise and fall of her chest he couldn’t help but watch as he exposed her middle from the top of her pajama bottoms. They sat on her just so that the top of her hip bones teased him, he pulled her top up to just below her breasts. His left hand held the shirt up with his thumb at it hooked under her vest on the side near her breast, while his right hand began to trace circles and swirls on her abdomen. He took note that skin here was not as dark as her arms or legs but it’s still a wonderful shade of olive.

“Tickles yet?” he asked. Vicky just shook her head, trying desperately to hold back a smile. “Then I’ll have to try harder.”

His hand stilled and went to the bed as he leaned forward. Tom began to kiss her stomach; trailing kisses from the band of the bottoms to the bottom of her ribs. Then with his tongue he made a trail back down to his start point and gently blew on it causing the skin of her belly to breakout in goose pimples again. Her breath drew in sharply, but she made no motion to move.

“Ah, I think I might be on to something.”

“That was cold,” her voice answered, a little shaky. It only made Tom smile.

Feeling bold he knelt down between her legs so he could better trail his lips to the side, near her right hipbone. He gave her a little lick there; a kiss, and then started suck on her flesh. She did squirm at that; a deep breath filled her lungs as she gasped. He brought his left hand down to hold onto her near where his tongue and lips had abused her flesh, his right hand going to the twin side so as to prevent her from squirming away. As he sucked her skin, his tongue licked at her flesh to ensure that the mark he left would last for as long as possible.

By the time he is done, satisfied that she’ll be able to see his love mark for longer than just a few days, Vicky has stopped squirming though her breath was still quick. Standing up he admired his work. It is by no means a perfect circle; actually it looked more like an oval, but it so dark that it nearly matched the night sky in color.

A self-satisfactory smile graced his lips as his jovial blue eyes travelled over her. Her hands were gripping the sheets; her eyes looked much darker than normal as she met his gaze.

Vicky lifted herself up on her elbows to see the hickey Tom left behind. It was her first hickey of any variety. She had never let any of her past boyfriends suck on her neck for more than a few seconds let alone leave a mark. Granted, this one wasn’t on her neck, which she appreciated but hot damn. Feeling Tom’s mouth tug at her skin there while his tongue danced across made her want his mouth and tongue other places.

“Tom,” she breathed his name and their eyes met. That’s all it took for her to call him to her and his mouth was on hers once more.

Her senses were on overload, her mind barely keeping up with everything. They were kissing, but it was more than just kissing. It was a prelude to something, a part of her mind said. Taste, something told her, they were attempting to taste each other completely. It wasn’t enough though. She ran her tongue across his top lip and he retaliated by sucking on her bottom lip. Vicky captured his tongue and lightly scraped her teeth across it.

It did something to Tom. He kissed her so hard that their teeth clack together. Unable to stop himself his left hand gripped her side before moving up and slipping under her shirt, which she had never pulled back down. His hand covered her breast, thumb brushing her nipple.

The feeling was enough to make him moan, it was enough to make her gasp.

Vicky pulled back, surprised but also needing a proper breath of air. Tom looked at her, his hand still holding her breast as if it had every right to be there (and she was not going to tell him otherwise as this point). It was not the first time a guy had grabbed her breasts, probably wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time it had been skin on skin contact. She thanked him silently that he couldn’t feel her heartbeat pounding on her left side.

“Is this, is this all right?” The blue in his eyes was barely visible, just a small ring around the black pupil. They both froze in anticipation of her response.

“Yes,” she finally replied, her own voice sounding heavy to her ears. Tom nodded and returned to kissing her, slower, more deliberate this time. His hand was partially kneading her, partially massaging and it felt fucking wonderful. Then with that same goddamn thumb he circled her nipple before he pulled his hand back just so that his palm was barely touching it as he moved it back and forth causing it to peak. With her nipple standing fully erect he pinched it.

“Oh god,” she moaned. Vicky didn’t even realize his lips had left hers until she felt his mouth,  _his mouth_ , on her. He twirled his tongue around her nipple before he placed his mouth fully upon it and much like when he sucked at the skin near her hip, he began to suck on her nipple. She made a noise that was a cross between a whimper and a moan, her hands went up to Tom’s head to grip the back of his neck. Tom’s right hand came up as he leaned down to better to attend to her, his body brushing lightly against hers, and pushed the other side of her top up to take possession of her other breast. As he rubbed her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger she arched her back in response.

“Tom, Tom,  _ay dios mio_.” Who knew there were more to breasts instead of just being, well, there and for making it impossible to wear a button down shirt properly.

When he moved his mouth from her nipple to suck at the skin of the bottom of her breast, his other hand stilled to just hold her, she had to let out a little giggle.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his eyes peaked over her swell.

“You and hickeys,” she smiled.

He pulled away and braced his forearms on either side of her. “I like knowing I put them there,” he smiled back and then kissed along her jaw. “I thought I would be considerate and not have them all over your neck.”

“Thank you.” She snaked her arms up and around his to pull her shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it behind her. Vicky brought her hands down to rest on Tom’s back she gathered the material of his shirt in her hands and pulled up from his back until it at his shoulders where he took over and pulled it off, dropping it on the floor. “I figure my shirt wasn’t doing its job anymore,” she explained when he raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “But I wasn’t going to be the only one shirtless.”

“Seems fair,” he agreed and resettled his arms around her. “I am curious about something.” His right hand went to her shoulder and he ran his fingers across it. “Actually I am curious about two things, now that I think about it.”

“What two things?”

“First, how is it possible you have freckles just on your shoulders? I wasn’t expecting that.” The mirth in his voice matched the look on his face as he placed a kiss on each shoulder. “I mean, you could have some on your back but it looks like someone spattered paint across them.”

“My freckles, you’re asking about my freckles?” She couldn’t help but giggle. “I suppose it’s from my German side, and no I don’t think I have any on my back. What else are you curious about, Thomas?”

“I do like it when you use my full name,” he responded and kissed her. “The other thing I was curious about is if I remove something of mine does that mean you have to do the same?”

Vicky wasn’t blind to what he was asking, or where it would lead, but she decided to give him a hard time anyway. “I suppose, but I don’t have any socks on.”

Tom didn’t reply and stood up to pull his sleep bottoms off, the floor their new home, which left him in only his boxer-briefs. It did not go missed that he was turned on as much as she was, only his desire more noticeable. He brought his hand to her waistband and hooked his forefingers on each side and pulled hers down, careful to leave her panties alone.

“Oh,” he marveled, as he dropped her bottoms. “Tell me you haven’t been wearing those all day, or worse, put them on after your shower.”

They were cut like very small shorts, red, and lacy. On her they are the single sexiest thing he had ever seen.

Her Cheshire Cat grin swept across her face. “What can I say, I like the color red.”

He was still taking her in as he picked her right leg to hook at his waist so he could rub his hand up and down her thigh. “You are a deceptive little creature. Here I was thinking because of your loose fitting flannel bottoms and plain top you’d have something simple on underneath, maybe even with a little cartoon character. No, you have theses on,” and he slid his hand up her leg to run a finger under the edge of the lace. “They look gorgeous on you, by the way, but they give me ideas.”

“What kind of ideas?”

“Naughty ideas,” he replied as he slipped another finger under the edge of her lace bottoms.

Vicky bit her bottom lip. “Are they  _fun_ ideas?”

“Loads.”

“Good. Oh, and Tom,” she grinned.

“Yes?”

Her voice was soft as she said, “You should see the matching bra.”

Tom picked up her other leg to rest at his waist and he leaned forward, her legs slowly warp around him as his face approached hers. “Death, you shall be the death of me.”

Vicky’s hand trailed down his torso, stopping at the band of his boxers. “I don’t know about that.” With a finger she dragged it up through his trail of hair to his bellybutton then on up to his sternum where there sat a delicious little patch of hair. She knew a lot of her girls her age thought hair on a guy was disgusting but for Vicky she always found it appealing. Granted, she didn’t like a guy’s chest covered completely in hair but just enough to show he was, in her mind, a “manly, man.”

He shook his head. “We can debate about that later.” He pulled her hand from his chest and entwined his fingers with hers as he brought it to the bed. “I am thinking that things might be more comfortable if you are actually on the bed as opposed to hanging half off.”

“True,” Vicky nodded, the first inkling of hesitation appeared in her expression because up until now they had just been fooling around, nothing too serious. Sure they were both almost naked but she knew as soon as she moved from where she was then things had a good chance of going to a completely different level.

And that scared Vicky just a little bit, despite what they had been doing she was still a virgin. The pretense of fooling around had given her an extra boost of self-assurance that she would have otherwise been lacking. With that bit of security gone part of her, which was usually more cautious, was saying to slow it down and toss a shirt back on. Yet still the part of her that was rebellious, a side she rarely indulged in, was very vocally suggesting to her to just to go with the flow. Yet another part of her was nearly hyperventilating and asking why the hell some part of Tom’s skin wasn’t touching hers.

Later Vicky wasn’t sure if it was the second or third voice that won.

Tom helped her settle back on the bed and then they were kissing again. Things were moving a little more quickly. As Tom kissed Vicky he moved his hips against her, which made her moan into his mouth. He loved the sound and it sent a shiver down his spine. She pressed her chest against him, reveling in the feeling of his skin against her.

When he dipped his hand under her panties and began to touch her pussy, her body wasn’t sure exactly how to react. Vicky simultaneously wanted to pull him closer and ask him to never stop doing the magic he was doing with his fingers, especially when he dipped the tip one into her, but she also wanted to push him away because it felt almost  _too_  much, and she couldn’t even begin to properly describe what that meant.

“Tom,” she whimpered against his mouth, “Tom, I want…” Vicky couldn’t finish the thought. What exactly did she want?

His hand stilled, his forehead pressed against hers. “Are you sure?” he asked, he closed his eyes for a moment before looking into hers.

“Yes,” her voice heavy and beautiful in his ears. “Yes.”

“Have you ever…” he let sentence trail off, it was not necessary to finish it.

It was her turn to close her eyes before she looked back at him. “No, but…but I’m sure.”

And Tom didn’t ask her to confirm again because that’s all he needed to hear. He kissed her before rolling off of her and going to the side of the bed. He fished under the bed for a moment or two before his hand came back up with a rubber. Hey, it was technically his room when he’d come to visit, of course he had a secret stash of rubbers there. He’d be stupid not to.

He felt her eyes on him as he took off his boxers to slide it on. When Tom turned to look at her, she had started to take off those damnable red lace knickers.

“Let me,” he gently spoke as he stilled her hands and took over. Vicky lifted her hands, and placed them above her head as he pulled them off, closing her eyes.

So she was not expecting it when his mouth met her center, so his tongue could elicit more of those little gasps and moans she had been making. One of her hands came down to tangle her fingers in his hair. Her other hand came down into his hair when he slipped a finger into her. Tom lifted his eyes to watch across her body as her back arched, her eyes still close. With his free hand he held her hip down and then slipped in another finger.

“Oh, oh, fuuhh,” she gasped, unable to finish what she was going to say. Her hips began to rock and her breathing came out in little huffs of air.

He took his mouth away from her he placed a kiss on her inner thigh and briefly entertained leaving a mark there before deciding against it, for now. The rhythm of his fingers slowed, his mouth not returning to her core, so that he could lift his head and gaze at her excited expression until she opened her eyes.

“Do you want me inside?” he asked, his voice roughly laced with desire.

“God, yes Tom.”

Vicky kept her eyes on him as he positioned himself between her legs, a sense of nervousness came over her. This was going to be her first time and she had no idea how this was going to feel.

Tom watched as her eyes closed and slightly scrunched them as he entered her and finally made it past her natural barrier. Her arms went up to rest at his side, her hands ready to push him away or pull him close.

“Vicky,” he breathed her name, feeling her warmth tighten around him as her body finally accept all of him. He placed one hand just above her shoulder while the other held her waist at the back. Her eyes were still closed, but he waited until her face began to relax before he started to move. When he slowly he began to thrust into her, her eyes opened and he stopped. Leaning down he kissed her then trailed his lips down to where her pulse beat just below her jaw.

“I should have said this earlier,” he confessed against her skin, “but you are just so beautiful. Just unbelievably so.” He gave her a small thrust and she let out a little gasp. “Let me know what you want, what feels good, if any of it feels good.”

Her eyes met his shyly. “Do…do I feel good?” she asked as she shifted her hip.

He groaned loudly, thankful no one was around to hear him. “Fuck yes. You are the best fucking feeling in the world.” He pressed his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes. “You taste delicious and you feel incredible. There are no words in any language that I know to describe just how good you feel.” Her giggle reached his ears and it made him smile.

When her hand went to his ass to pull him further inside him he let out a sound that was part growl and part moan. He moved within her again. He wanted to tell her how honored he was to be her first, how much she had grown to mean to him in such little time, but instead all he could articulate was, “God, you feel so fucking good, love, so tight. Fuck!”

Not that she seemed to be articulate much herself. A deep moan from the back of her throat was her only reply. Every few shift of his hips she knew a slight look of discomfort would cross her face. He’d slow down then, go more gently. His mouth would seek out her breast to suck, to roll her dark peaks across his tongue. Her breasts and pussy seemed to be connected because when he did that her body wanted more. Her body didn’t feel like letting her know more what of, except that it involved Tom. When she would respond by increasing the speed in her hips, he’d pick up his own pace to meet her. Her open mouth gasps all the thanks he’d need for listening to what her body was saying.

“Tom, Tom, Tom,” her voice just kept saying softly, over and over again, as if each iteration of his name meant something else. Yes, like, that. When he apparently did something she really enjoyed, her voice would drop and she’d keen, “ _Thomas_.” It made his cock twitch each time.

His hips started to go faster and she wrapped her legs around him, trying to match him thrust for thrust, her voice signing in pleasure, any discomfort a thought at the back of her mind. When her breath quickened he pressed into her with more power behind each thrust. And if felt good, the insufficient word supplied by her mind, and it felt like something was trying to build up, something better. Honestly she couldn’t imagine how it could get better.

He knew it might be too much to ask with it being her first time, but he wanted her to find her own release too. He brought one had to her clit, his thumb giving it some due affection. She continued to call out his name, her voice growing louder. He could feel her to start to squeeze him tighter, her body ready to uncoil.

He leaned over, kissed her and trailed his lips across her cheek to her ear, his thumb doing what his tongue had been doing earlier. “My beautiful Winged Nike.”

Vicky moaned loudly, her body trembling as she pulsated around him, her back arched and her eyes closed, her mouth opened in pleasure. It was enough to set his own release off, Tom moaned into her shoulder, still thrusting into her hoping to her carry her along with him until his movements became softer and slower.

Her arms wrapped around to his back, pulling him to her, her hands rested on his shoulder blades, their breath quick. Tom rested like that for a few moments, his face buried in the crook of her neck, enjoying the press of her body against his.

Slowly he pulled out of her, a small whine leaving her as he did so, and rolled to his side. Turning away from her, he discreetly disposed of the rubber in the bedside bin, making a mental note to take care of it later.

Turning back to face her he smiled at Vicky, her cheeks were flushed, lips were swollen from kisses and he loved knowing that he was the cause for both. He reached over and tucked a lock of damp hair, from sweat or her shower he wasn’t sure, behind her ear.

Not liking her body away from his he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. Tom kissed her gently on the lips before pulling away to look her in the eyes.

“Are you all right?” He asked.

Vicky smiled dreamily at him, taking note of his own pink face, still enlarge pupils and heavy breathing, “I am more then all right. Just don’t ask me to think right now, my brain is broken.”

Tom chuckled as he ran his hand up and down her arm, enjoying the contrast of their skin; her whole body was blushing it seemed while his looked as if had a particularly bad sunburn. “Are you saying I broke your brain?” At first he thought she was being playful but when he looked down after she hadn’t replied to his teasing question he found her eyes were closed and she was fast asleep. Her sleepy state from before they started had finally caught up with her.

Since all their activity had taken place on top of the bed covers it took some careful and clever maneuvering to get the covers over them. When all was settled he pulled Vicky back into his embrace, tucking her head under his chin. It wasn’t long after that Tom followed her example and fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned in the story tags, flashback and flash-forwards feature in this story. Each time either happens, they will be clearly marked. And for those that originally read this story, there is a new scene added.

**_July 2012, Heathrow Airport, around 10 a.m._ **

Tom adjusted the brown leather strap of his satchel on his shoulder, his other hand pulled along his small carry-on luggage as he walked the pathways in the airport. He checked his phone, again. Still nothing, no email, no text, all was quiet on the Western Front. He resisted the urge to toss the piece of technology, if only because he didn’t want it to hit anyone unintentionally.

Just as he was slipped his phone into his jeans pocket it went off. He nearly dropped it trying to answer it.

“Hello,” Tom answered, hoping he sounded calm.

“What is this I hear about you leaving the country?” his manager’s voice came through the speaker. Ah, yes, he should have known he wasn’t going to be getting away that easily.

Tom did his best to sound distressed when he spoke. Hell, he should sound distressed. He was an actor after all. If he didn’t convince his manager then he was doing his job wrong. Yet out right lying had never been his particular forte. “Yes, yes, oh, it’s painfully urgent. I know I am supposed to be leaving for Germany soon but I swear to you I will be back before then.” Then he added a hitch to his voice. “It’s just very personal and hard to go into.”

He heard a sigh on the other line, and he grinned. Tom won the man over. “Right, well, if you can make your trip quick.”

Emotional hitch back in his voice, Tom replied, “Yes, of course, of course.” They mumble their farewells and Tom put his phone back in his pocket. It had to be the shortest conversation he had had with anyone from his management team.

Once Tom was boarded on the plane he checked his phone one more time looking through his emails, text messages, even his twitter. Nothing. His voicemail icon didn’t indicate that he had a new message but he checked just in case – no new messages. No indication that Vicky had read the text, the email or listened to the phone message he sent a couple of days ago.

Of course there was no reason for Vicky to reply to him. He was the one at fault for everything that had been crumbling apart between them, or rather what  _had_  fallen apart between them. He hadn’t seen her in months and the last he had heard from her was when she replied with a polite “Thank you,” to the goofy picture and message he had sent for her birthday. Now that he reflected upon it, she hadn’t made a comment on his song of the day tweets in a while, which she always did (to razz him or compliment him). Curious, and before he could be scolded, he went on twitter to her page to see who she was following. Twitter indicated she only followed 130 people. He scrolled through the list twice. He was not among them. Tom supposed he deserved that.

The flight attendant came around and reminded him to turn off his phone.  He apologized and turned the device off.

With Luke’s help he had been able to arrange a flight, accommodations and a car service for Los Angeles within a day of his neighbor delivering the invitation. The shortest flight Luke could find out of Heathrow was just under twelve hours, no layovers. Twelve hours was still too long for Tom.

****

**_26 December 2002, very early morning_ **

He felt something pressed against his side. It was warm, and whatever it was it clung to him. Maybe it felt warm to him but apparently it wasn’t warm itself as he felt a little shiver run its length.

_Not an “it” but a “she,” Vicky, remember?_

Tom’s flashed eyes opened at that thought. Sure enough a tanned arm was draped across his pale chest. He decided he liked the contrast, even if he felt it made him look like a ghost. Her dark hair was mostly covering her face, her head was resting on his shoulder, and the arm belonging to said shoulder was dead asleep. He smiled at that, it meant she had been resting there for a while, which was something he definitely liked. Vicky was on her side, arm haphazardly draped across him, and a leg of hers was wrapped around the nearest leg of his it could find.

The bedding had drifted down to their waists and Vicky shivered again, her body pulling closer to him. With his free hand he pulled the blankets up and turned on his side, facing the dark haired girl. He gathered her up in his arms again, like when he had first fallen asleep, and wrapped one of his long legs around both of hers. He relished in the press of her bare skin against his.

It was still a few hours until the morning light came for them. A few more hours before reality came calling to remind them that she would be leaving the next day, which meant they only had a day at the most to pretend.

Tom didn’t regret what had happened last night but he didn’t want her to go home heartbroken or pining for him. They would have to talk, definitely, but until then he would hold her to him as if his life depended on it.

*  *  *  *  * 

Vicky wondered if waking up next to a naked man was only awkward the first time, especially  _after_  your first time.

It wasn’t unpleasant. It was just different to have your nude body twined with another nude body. The Sex Ed classes at school and her mom’s trashy romance novels hadn’t prepare her for this. Of course they had led her astray on how it would feel the first time: pain and blood and tearing. It hadn’t been like that at all with Tom. Well, there was a bit of pain, but it wasn’t as if she was getting split in half like had overheard one girl at school describe. Maybe she had just been lucky?

Of course the awkwardness of the act had been right. She had been a virginal seventeen-year-old and while Tom had been attentive she was pretty sure he wasn’t some Casanova. It was hard to say though, being her first time though. He did help get to whatever that was at the end. Was that an orgasm? She had heard those were pretty rare. Like “you’d be lucky to have two in your life time” lucky. Getting an orgasm during your first time seemed unlikely.

The sound of the front door closing snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Crap. Tom,” she reached up from between them, where her arms were captured, and shoved his shoulder. “Tom! Your mom and sisters are back!”

He didn’t stir.

She shook his shoulder harder. “Tom, you idiot, wake up! Your family is back!” Vicky tried to keep herself from actually yelling at him, not wanting to draw the attention of the three downstairs.

Lazily his eyes woke up and he smiled at her. “Heh-” he started to say but she cut him off.

“Yes, yes or whatever. Your mom is back. Get out of here before we get caught.” Vicky planted a quick kiss on his lips and then shoved him out of the bed. He landed awkwardly on the floor. “Sorry!”

He quickly stood up and danced around her bed picking up his pants and pyjamas. “No, it’s okay. Sorry.”

Tom quickly left the room and dashed to the bathroom across the hall to put his clothes back on. When he came out he ran into his mother as she went to her room. Quickly he affected the demeanor and appearance of someone who had just been roused and not sneaking out of a pretty girl’s room.

His mother gave him a small smile and wished him a good morning before retreating to her room. A sigh of relief left him when she closed the door to her room behind her.

Turning around he jumped to find Sarah there. “Good morning Thomas. Hope you slept well.”

“Oh yes, hello. I mean, yeah. Slept just fine. I, uh, just um, keep it down, right?” God he hoped it wasn’t so obvious he was lying, for once. “I knocked on Vicky’s door to wake her up but I’m pretty sure she yelled at me in Spanish.”

Thankfully Sarah just nodded and turned around, going down stairs.

 

**_14 February 2003_ **

 

 

> **From:** Tom Hiddleston ****  
> Sent: Friday, 14 February 2003  
>  To: Vicky Diaz  
>  Subject: Happy St. Valentine’s Day!
> 
> Nike,
> 
> Did you receive the CDs that I sent? I know it takes a while but I am hoping that you receive them by today. The first CD has some of my favorite songs that I think you’ll enjoy. The second CD is my attempt to broaden your mind. I know you will be tempted to ignore it but don’t. There will be a quiz.
> 
> Always,   
>  Tom

 

> **From:** Vicky Diaz ****  
> Sent: February 14, 2003, Friday  
>  To: Thomas Hiddleston  
>  Subject: RE: Happy St. Valentine’s Day!
> 
> Tom,
> 
> I just got home and yes the CDs did come today. Love the first CD, of course. You have a great taste in music. I was not expecting that second CD however! I will say that it may have *some* good songs on there. ;-P
> 
> I knows it is several days past, but did you get your birthday present from me? I think I may have sent it out too late for it to arrive on time. Let me know when you do get it, I’m mildly paranoid it will be/has been lost in the mail.
> 
> Oh! And I *finally* was able to get onto that website for your  _Electra_ play. Wow, I don’t know how you remembered all those lines in Greek! Amazing! I will say I did cheat and find a translation online for the play because there were just some parts that I couldn’t tell what was going on. That means I watched it twice.
> 
> Never say I didn’t do anything for you.
> 
> Hope you’re doing well.
> 
> Hasta luego,   
>  Vicky

 Tom looked at the computer screen; his hands played with the tiny box that had arrived the day before. Inside had been a note that read:

_Happy birthday Tom! I hope you like the gift. Don’t laugh. I made it. I know it’s not much, but you are a hard man to shop for!_

_Hugs,  
Vicky_

The box was empty; he wore the little black woven bracelet on his wrist. Several years from now they’d inspire a bit of wardrobe for a role. At present the cursor blinked on his screen, waiting for him to start typing his reply back to her. Taking a deep breath he began to type an answer.

 

> **From:** Tom Hiddleston ****  
> Sent: Friday, 14 February 2003  
>  To: Vicky Diaz  
>  Subject: RE: Happy St. Valentine’s Day!
> 
> My Winged Nike,
> 
> Yes, I am glad to hear you enjoy the CDs I sent. Give the second one a chance. I think you’ll really enjoy it if you do. I am glad to hear you finally watched the play. Not too far out there then? I forgive you for the “cheating” by the way.
> 
> I received your gift and it’s wonderful, perfect. I am actually wearing it right now. I can’t believe you made it for me. I feel honored.
> 
> Vicky, I have to admit that I miss you terribly. I miss sitting on my mother’s sofa watching  _Indiana Jones_  and  _Superman_  at night. I miss the way you put too much sugar and cream in your coffee – after a certain point it’s not coffee anymore. I miss the way your tongue would slip into Spanish and you’d talk too fast for me to even attempt catching a word to translate. I miss seeing your smile grace those luscious lips. I miss the way you laugh. I miss the way your eyes looked at me when you woke up, the way your skin feels against mine. I miss the way my name falls from your lips. I would give anything to have you next to me.
> 
> How is this possible that you have entrapped me so? It was only one week. I haven’t told you but I actually cried after I saw you off at the airport. I cried because it felt as if some part of me was leaving. I did not think someone could become so essential to me in such a short amount of time. Is this love? Is this what men write poetry about? I don’t know but if it meant you could be at my side tomorrow I would pen everything I feel right now down in prose. If it meant that I could taste your lips, feel your hands upon my skin in the morning I would shout from the rooftop that I am yours.
> 
> To plainly state it I miss you, Vicky. I don’t dare count the days until I see you again because past one it is far too many.
> 
> And while I write this I have to know, do you feel the same for me? Do you feel as if there is a life before this one that perhaps we met there? I feel as if some part of me has finally found you only to be on the verge of losing you again.
> 
> I know when we parted we admitted to caring for each other but that the distance would be too much to be more then friends. (Bah, friends!) Are your feelings the same? Have they changed? Has some bloke over there caught your eye? I confess that when you left I might have felt it would have been for the best but now I feel my blood simmer with jealousy just at the thought that it could be true.
> 
> I must know. Please write, call, fly back to me soon, or if you wish I shall go to you.
> 
> Always yours,   
>  Tom

 He read over the email, ready to hit send. His long fingers danced over the bracelet before he decided to edit his message. When he was done it read:

 

> **From:** Tom Hiddleston ****  
> Sent: Friday, 14 February 2003  
>  To: Vicky Diaz  
>  Subject: RE: Happy St. Valentine’s Day!
> 
> Nike,
> 
> Yes, I am glad to hear you enjoy the CDs I sent. Give the second one a chance. I think you’ll really enjoy it if you do. I am glad to hear you finally watched the play. Not too far out there then? I forgive you for the “cheating” by the way.
> 
> I received your gift and it’s wonderful, perfect. I am actually wearing it right now. I can’t believe you made it for me. I feel honored. Thank you so much! I will treasure it always.
> 
> I’ve been meaning to ask, have you read any good books of late?
> 
> Always,   
>  Tom

Tom hit send. No, they were right. Being just friends was best, even though something twisted in him when thought that. He couldn’t feel this way for someone after such a brief time, Tom was sure that it was the forbidden aspect that appealed to him, forbidden since she lived an ocean and nearly a whole continent away. That was it. Some part of him, he was sure, wanted something more than friendship with her only because later if things weren’t working out he could easily play the distance card.

That wouldn’t be fair to her. No, there was only one solution. He would need to get over her.

Again he fingered the bracelet. It was a task easier said than done.

 

**_12 July 2003, Saturday – Gilbert, Arizona_ **

“I still say he’s a skinny shit,” Amy, Vicky’s best friend, said as she waved a photo around as if she was drying a Polaroid. “Look at him! He’s nothing but skin and bones! You start something with him and it might start a fire!”

Vicky only rolled her eyes. “He’s not skinny. Granted he’s not built like David Boreanaz but he’s not a bean pole. Much.” When Amy waved the picture in front of her she snatched it away. It was a picture from Christmas, she, Tom, Emma, Sarah and Braeden stood in front of the Christmas tree inside Diana’s home. While it was supposed to be a photo of all the cousins (which Vicky was of course only an “honorary” cousin) before they delved into the gifts, she had Tom had managed to make it look like it supposed to be of the two of them and everyone else just jumped in at the last moment.

Man, she still had it bad for him. She tucked the photo back into the mirror above her dresser and went back to packing her things. She was leaving later that night to visit Aunt Mildred. Turned out the woman was serious about her visiting during the summer. She even paid for Vicky’s ticket since her parents couldn’t afford it (that had been a “wonderful” discussion).

Amy sat down next to the suitcase Vicky was stuffing full of her things. “You still like him, don’t you? You put on a brave face but I can tell.” Vicky did her best to ignore her and continued to pile things in. There were already way too many clothes but a girl could never be sure. Amy placed a hand on Vicky’s arm and she stopped packing and looked at her best friend. “Hey, it’s kind of hard to get over someone you like, especially if you slept with him.”

Vicky stuttered for a few moments before rolling her eyes again. Thank God her parents were out. “Amy, it doesn’t matter. The guy is like way out of my league. He’s gone to all these fancy schools – did you know he went to school with Prince William?”

“Prince William?” Amy asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, Prince William, of England, the guy on the cover of that magazine you kissed goodnight for a year.” Vicky teased and ducked a pillow tossed her way, laughing. “I thought he was joking at first, trying to see if he could pull a fast one. Nope, it’s true, sure they were in separate years but there is no way I can snag a guy who went to school with a freaking real life prince!” Suitcase closed she rolled her shoulders. “No. We’ll be friends. I’m sure this is some kind of school girl crush that will fade with time.”

“Whatever you say, girl,” her friend shook her head.

“Thank you. And another valid point is that after I get back from England I’ll be heading straight to San Jose to get settled over there for school,” Vicky pointed out. She had received a generous scholarship to attend San Jose State University to play softball for them.

“So you’re not going to try and jump his bones when you get over there?” Amy asked. She was met with a pillow in the face.

****

**_25 July 2003, Friday – London_ **

Dinner was quiet as Aunt Mildred kept shooting glares at Tom and his date, well, mostly his date. Vicky wanted to crawl under the table and slip away, and she was sure that Tom and Faith, his date, wanted to do the same thing.

During the past two weeks that she had been there Aunt Mildred, or Aunt Millie as she allowed Vicky to call her, had been making small comments and remarks on how cute Vicky and Tom would be together, that Vicky should really consider trying to go to school over here so they could be closer together, and other things that pertained to their non-existent romantic relationship.

Heck, since arriving Vicky had only seen him less than a handful of times, and not very long visits at that. So she wasn’t completely sure where Aunt Millie’s comments were coming from. The only thing she could think of was that it had to be the same thing as when Vicky’s grandmother visited: the woman always made a point of saying that the boy she went to freshman homecoming with was still cute and when was Vicky going to bring him over? It was just one of those little old person quirks that made them want to pair everyone up, harmless.

Except, well, apparently Aunt Mildred was serious.

“So, uh, Vicky,” Tom said trying to break up the silence for the third or fourth time that night. “I know you said you’re starting university soon, but you didn’t say what you were going to school for.”

“Oh right, I’m going to study graphic design. I think, I may change it as I am torn between that and doing something more with computers, programming, that sort of thing, if it doesn’t end up being what I thought it was.” Vicky took a sip of her wine, sneaking a look at Aunt Millie. While state side the legal drinking age was twenty-one, Vicky had never learned what it was in the U.K. Not that it apparently mattered as when she ordered her glass they didn’t even card her.

Faith laughed, “You’re just starting university? Is that a little late?” Vicky gave her a confused look and looked at Tom for help. He was looking at Faith, confused as well.

“Faith, she’s only eighteen,” Tom explained, simply. “She just graduated from her secondary school over there.”

Faith looked between Tom and Vicky, avoiding Aunt Mildred. “Well, no I just thought because the two of you, I mean, I know you said Tom that she was your friend but I was sure that…” She let the sentence die off and the table was quiet for several beats before she spoke again. “I’m sorry, Vicky, dear, it’s just that you seem so, uh, mature for your age.” Faith took a large swig of her wine when she was finished.

Aunt Mildred scoffed, “Mature, right, I’m sure that’s just what you thought, dreary.” It was the closest she had come to speaking against Faith in any way that night. Up until that moment she had just given a cold shoulder to the poor girl.

Wow. Tom picked up his glass and shamelessly downed the rest of the contents and flagged over a waiter to bring them some more. The three young adults drank their glasses in silence, Mildred had refused another glass. It was mutually, though silently, agreed that dessert was not going to be partaken tonight.

After the bill was paid and they were on their way out, Mildred announced she had to visit the ladies room – after Faith said the same. Tom and Vicky said they’d meet them outside.

“Do you think I should go in there and make sure Aunt Millie is behaving herself?” Vicky asked as they waited.

“Aunt Millie,” Tom quirked an eyebrow, “She must like you. I don’t think anyone has ever been able to call her that and get away with it.”

Vicky grinned mischievously at him. “Well, I  _am_  pretty special.”

Tom laughed and said something under her breath she could have sworn sounded like, “Oh, I know.” When he was done he shook his head. “To answer your original question though I think they’ll be fine. There are witnesses in there to stop anything from happening.”

She just nodded her head, “Right, of course. I can’t believe she’s been so frosty to Faith tonight, I mean I haven’t know her as long as you, but it doesn’t really seem to be in her character.”

“I haven’t seen her like that either. She can be a little eccentric, but nothing this mean spirited.” They were silent for a few beats, neither sure what to say, before Tom broke it. “You know, it is good to see you. I don’t think I’ve said that. It really is.”

Vicky smiled shyly up at him. She could easily tell from his tone where this could go if she didn’t respond right and she had a promise to keep to herself – just friends. Plus, he was dating Faith.  _That’s right Vicky, you can only be friends with him, nothing more, plus you aren’t some boyfriend stealing_ sucia _._

So Vicky answered a little facetiously, “Well, it’s good to be seen.”

Tom took a step closer. “And you are looking great tonight.”

‘Really Tom, you’re going to say something like that?’ she thought. Out loud she answered, “Well, you don’t look to bad yourself,  _mi amigo_ , even if you have let your hair get a little long and I love the shoes Faith had on. I’ll have to ask her where she found those.”

He looked at her, almost as if he was confused for a moment, before something clicked behind his eyes. “Thank you. Oh, and I have a surprise for you _: Buen tiempo estamos teniendo_.”

Vicky giggled, “Oh my gosh you’re learning Spanish!”

Tom grinned from ear to ear (and Vicky had to ignore the way her stomach flipped). “Well I have to be able to communicate with you in both languages. I think it’s highly unfair that you should be the only one who can speak two languages between us.”

 “To be fair you do know quite a bit of Greek and Latin, and French if I am not mistaken,” She rolled her eyes and laughed, Tom soon joined her. That’s how Faith and Aunt Mildred found them when they came out. Faith didn’t look worse for wear, thank goodness, and Aunt Mildred had a smug look on her face when her eyes fell on Tom and Vicky.

Vicky did ask Faith where she purchased her shoes. To which Faith replied, “Oh, these old things?” Which was girl-speak for, “These are brand new, thanks for noticing, but I don’t want to let my boyfriend know I bought them just for this occasion.”

The group parted fairly amicably, Vicky and Tom hugged and gave each other friendly kisses on their cheeks. Neither noticed the other look back as they left. Neither acknowledge the want to go after the other to stop them from leaving.

It was Vicky’s last night in London.

 

**_Spring 2004 – Maui, Hawaii_ **

“Have I mentioned how awesome it is you are Aunt Mildred’s favorite,” Emma turned her head and grinned at Vicky from her towel on the beach, referring to the paid trip they currently were on. “Also, I hate you. I have to slather on the lotion while you just sit there and bask in the sun getting darker.”

Vicky, who was lying on her stomach on her towel, pushed herself up on to her forearms. “Thank you, I guess, and thank you.” The girls laughed.

Emma rolled over and assumed the same position as her friend. “I have to ask this, since it’s just the two of us.”

“Ask away.”

“Why the hell aren’t you dating my brother?”

Vicky’s first reaction was to laugh, which was what she did. Emma just looked at her like she had lost it. “Why am I not dating Tom? Uh, one because I have a boyfriend, two he has a girlfriend and three we’re just friends. In fact he’s one of my best friends.”

The younger girl shook her head. “I can’t believe that. I mean, I was sure there was something between the two of you that one Christmas. I just thought you two would look so good together.”

“Thank you for your support, I guess, but like I said we’re just friends.” Vicky looked around to see if anyone was spying on them. “What we should be discussing is John and Amy. Have you seen those two?”

Both girls began to laugh at the mention of them. John was one of Tom’s best friends and Amy was, of course, Vicky’s sister from another mother (aka BFF). As soon as Tom and Vicky introduced them at the start of the trip they had been nearly inseparable.

Tom, John and Amy came back and joined them after getting drinks. Vicky sat up on her towel and Tom sat down next to her while John and Amy occupied the beach blanket that had been spread out earlier.

Despite what Vicky had told Emma moments before their friends’ return, Emma watched Tom and Vicky. It was like watching a dance. Each time one of them made a small move, leaned just a little bit that way, the other made a complimentary move. Not in a way to try and get closer, but more in an aesthetically pleasing, model posing kind of way. It was all very ludicrous, really, watching them. To Emma it was very clear that her brother and friend thought of the other as more than just friends.

‘Maybe they’ll shag and get together that way,’ she thought.

She wasn’t surprised later, when they went dancing, and they were all on the dance floor that the world disappeared for Tom and Vicky. For them, they were the only ones there. John, Amy and Emma all exchanged knowing looks and left them alone. When the two weren’t dancing Tom kept her tucked into his side, an arm firmly placed around her shoulders. “So as to make sure you don’t get trampled on,” he had said, making light at her lack of height. She had only laughed and told him he could buy all her drinks for the night then.

In the morning when Emma woke up, in the room she was sharing with Amy and Vicky, she was not all that surprised to find Vicky and Tom, fully clothed, sleeping in the same bed with their arms and legs wrapped around each other.

Of course, if Tom and Vicky were with her then the question to ask was: where were John and Amy?

 

**_July 2012 – LAX Airport, Los Angeles, California_ **

 “Sir,” someone said as the shook Tom’s shoulder gently. “Sir, we’ve landed.”

Tom’s eyes snapped opened and he looked around, blinking at the light. People were starting to stand up and gather their things. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. “I’m sorry, thank you, um, what time is here?”

The flight attended, who had awakened him, smiled sweetly at him. “It is just after four in the afternoon, sir.”

Tom thanked her one more time and gathered his belongings. As soon as he was off the plane he pulled his phone out and turned it back on. He waited the agonizingly long time it took the device to wake up before checking the triad again: text, email, voicemail. Still nothing from her, again he was not surprised but his heart twisted just little bit.

There was however a text from Chris saying he couldn’t remember when Tom said he would have to leave for Germany and wanted to know if and when they could get together before he left. Tom tapped out a quick reply saying he’d be leaving for Germany at the end of the month but that he was actually in L.A. at the moment.

Chris replied back quickly, despite the time difference, “You and Vicki finally together?”

Tom laughed first at his friend for spelling Vicky wrong (as she would point out with a glare) and then at Chris for seeming to know that Tom only went to L.A. for two reasons: work or Vicky. He knew Chris was only teasing him but he replied back with, “Not yet.” Hoping that is optimism and confidence was translated through the text.

And somewhere, across the Atlantic the sentiment understood by a large, blonde, Australian man trying not to roar out loud with laughter, lest he wake up the little girl in his arms he just got back to sleep. His whole body shook with the contained mirth. ‘Good on ya, mate,’ he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my friend yumtumbl for originally editing this chapter. If there are any mistakes, rest assured that they are all mine.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to be good and re-edit each chapter as I posted. But alas I'm just going to put the chapters as they are up on here. They've already been posted on my writing blog and THF. And I promise to one day, I don't know when, to come back and properly edit these, but considering its been a year since I did that, and 1 year or more since I properly wrote anything concerning this series I need to do something.
> 
> So please, please excuse the massive errors. They aren't super bad, but like I do omit words quite often.

* * *

 

**_2 May 2007, Wednesday – Brooklyn, New York_ **

“Tom that dance, that boy band part,” Vicky laughed. “God I loved that part! Everyone was great as a whole, but that was my favorite part, even if you were Cloten. I will pay good money to get that on tape, seriously!”

Tom couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s praise. “Thank you!” He put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him and pointed down at her with his other arm. “See, this is why she is awesome!” The table laughed. “This is why she is one of my best mates!”

“I am also ditching school for a couple of days for you,” she pointed out as she took a drink from her long neck bottle. “So don’t say I’ve never done anything for you!”

“Oi Tom! It’s your turn!” one of his cast-mates called to him over the noise of the bar.

Vicky elbowed him in the side causing him to jump a little. “Go sing your song.”

Tom took a drink of his beer and then went up to the stage where the karaoke was taking place. When he got up there he grabbed the mike. “I dedicate this song to you, Vicky.” There were a few “awws” in the crowd before the song started but quickly disappeared once people realized it wasn’t a love ballad.

It was Will Smith’s “Miami”.

Tom did it flawlessly, never looking at the screen for the words.

Vicky was nearly doubled over in laughter when he rejoined the group. “Oh man, that was **awesome**! I can’t believe you knew all the words!”

“I memorized that damn song the Christmas after you left,” Tom chortled. There was only ever one Christmas for them.

Vicky looked surprised for a moment, “Really?”

Tom nodded and picked up his drink. “I had the bloody song stuck in my head for days afterwards.” Hehad listened to the song on repeat for hours on end, and then moved to the whole CD before he weaned himself off it by his birthday.

She shrugged with a comical smug look on her face, “What can I say? I have good taste in music.”

 

**_20 August 2007, Monday - London_ **

He could almost hear her eyebrow raise in question over the line. “Wait, so it’s not a Jane Austen movie.”

Tom chuckled, “Yes and no. It’s about Jane Austen in her later years. I will be the suitor of her niece.”

“Ok,” Vicky replied. “I get it now. So, period clothing it is again?”

He paused before answering. “Yes, why do you ask?”

She sighed and he could picture her shifting in her seat, if she was sitting, or shuffling her feet if she were standing. “I – I just worry, you know. You’re so talented, Tom, I don’t want you to get stuck playing all these period parts. I mean, besides Oakley, I don’t know what part you’ve played past the nineteen-forties.”

“Don’t forget Bill, and tell me how you _really_ feel Vicky.”

“Sorry. Bill, I forget Suburban Shootout since I haven’t seen it yet. And don’t get butt hurt Tom,” she sounded impatient. “I’m just saying don’t you dare limit yourself. I know, and so should you, that you can do so much more _._ _Ponte las pilas._ Get your ass out there, or your agent or manager or whoever handles finding auditions for you and stretch your talent. I love you Tom, you know that right, you’re one of my best friends and I just want to make sure you’re being the best possible you, the one I know you can be.”

Tom wanted to be stubborn and waited before answering her. He knew the next words could determine the way the conversation went: he could either calmly reply or start an argument.

He had meant to go with the former.

“Do you not think that I’ve auditioned for other roles, other parts? Do you think I limit myself to what I go for?” she started to say something but he continued. “Fuck, Vicky, you should know how many times I’ve been turned away, been told that I wasn’t right or what they were looking for. I _do_ put myself out there, how dare you suggest I don’t!  You claim to be my friend, to care for me, but what it sounds like is that I’m getting my arse ripped a new one because I haven’t played enough modern roles. That’s fucking bullshit. I don’t deserve this. I called you to share something good and I end up being fed to the dogs.”

It was silent for several beats, neither of them saying anything. If anyone else had been around thenTom’s glare would have killed them.

“Nothing to say, huh?  Can’t admit that you were wrong,” Tom finally snapped.

“ _Vete a la verga_ ,” Vicky finally said after another moment. He could hear the hitch her voice before she hung up.

“Fuck,” Tom said under this breath. He immediately tried to call her back. It rang once before going to voicemail. He tried again, the same thing happened.

 

**_17 September 2007, Monday - London_ **

“Pick up, pick up,” Tom muttered sitting on the end of his bed, tapping his foot.

“See, I told you’d find your keys there Greg!” Vicky’s cheerful voice came. “Now get up here and help me.” In the background shuffling of paper could be heard and something snapped closed. It sounded like a binder. She was probably at work.

“Actually it’s Tom,” he said cautiously.

“Tom?” Something dropped and she cursed, “Uh, _uno momento_.”

Tom didn’t say anything. He’d wait on the end of the line for a moment, for ten, if it meant she’d actually talk to him.

It had been nearly a month since they communicated in any way or shape. It was the longest they had gone without speaking to each other since they met.

After hearing a door close and lock she said, “Tom?”

“I’m here,” he replied and ran a hand through his hair, his stomach flipped at hear her voice. She was probably at work, like he guessed, but he couldn’t hold off on talking to her. “Before you say anything else let me apologize. I did not mean for any of what I said to harm you in any way. In fact I shouldn’t have said what I did the way I did. You didn’t deserve that, you have been one of my strongest supporters and I pitched that to the side and let myself believe for a moment that you weren’t. I should know better, _I know better_.” He took a breath and stood up and began to pace his room. “It just hurt to think that you doubted me for a moment, that I wasn’t serious about my craft, hurt me to my core. You don’t understand, Nike, how a comment of yours can build me up or completely tear me down.”

_Sniffle. Sniffle._

“No, no I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Tom quickly said and tossed his head back in frustration. “This is not going how I had hoped. I really –”

Vicky interrupted him, “Ju-just give me a moment.”

He nodded then remembered that she couldn’t see him. “Yes, of course.” He could tell she had put down her phone; at least she hadn’t hung up on him. She blew her nose and he laughed softly.

”Ok, ok.” Deep breath and she was back on the line. “I’m sorry too Tom,” Vicky said, her voice still thick with tears. “None of what I said came out right and I couldn’t stop the deluge of crap I was saying. I just…I just worry for you, you know? I want to make sure that these people who say they have you best interest, work wise, at heart actually do. I just want to make sure they are doing their job and not holding you back. I know you constantly put yourself out there.” She sniffled again and let out a short laugh. “Because goddamit, if they aren’t then they’re going to have a short little Mexican girl walking into their offices, taking names and kicking ass, you got that? You are more then welcome to tell them that, by the way.”

He couldn’t help laughing his, “ehehehe,” laugh that entertained her so. “I will definitely make sure to tell them that. Of course that is the other part of the reason I am calling you,” he confessed.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Remember that movie you dragged me to a couple of years ago, the space western?” Tom grinned mischievously as he spoke. He knew the name of the movie of course; he just wanted Vicky to take the bait.

“You mean _Serenity_? And don’t act like you don’t know it,” she chided him, calling him out, “You loved it, remember?”

“Too right you are, my dear, well the Operative, remember him? He was also in _Children of Men_.”

“Yes! He was awesome. Why?”

“I shall be working with him, nothing big, just him, Ewan McGregor, me all in _Othello_ – together.” He did his best to contain his amusement of his voice, trying to give off the air of being bored. He could almost hear her jaw dropping.

“Pardon, you’re in _Othello_ , and Ewan McGregor is in it too?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, did I mispronounce someone’s name?”

Pause.

“So shall we fanboy and girl now or later?”

 

**_4  December 2007, Tuesday – London,_ Othello _After Party_**

Vicky stuck close to Diana as they stood to the side while Tom took pictures with the cast from _Othello_. She had decided to play it down that night. Like many of the women, including Diana herself, she wore a black dress and black heels, opting to keep her hair down.

“Are you nervous?” Diana asked, smiling up at her.

She shifted from foot to foot. “Is it that obvious?”

Diana shook her head, “Not very.”

Quickly looking at Diana and then away she said, “I don’t even know what I am doing here. He should have brought Emma or someone. I just know I am going to blunder and make things awkward. It’s a gift I have.”

“Nonsense,” Diana said. “I shouldn’t really be saying this but you know while he was on tour doing _Cymbeline_ he was thinking of taking time off from acting, trying something else.”

Vicky turned her head to look at Diana so quickly a she felt a nerve pinch. “What? That can’t be true.”

Diana nodded, “Yes, saying he felt like something was missing. Then Tom called me up after you visited him in New York. Saying that the fire had been reignited in him, Tom credited you on his change of thought. I think it meant a lot for him to have the two most important women in his life here.”

She opened her mouth ask her what she meant by the last comment but Tom interrupted her. He greeted them with Ewan _Fucking_ McGregor at his side.

“Mum, Vicky, I would like you to meet Ewan,” Tom introduced the actor.

Ewan shook Diana’s hand first, singing her son’s praises of his talent. Then he turned his attention to Vicky to her. They were very nearly the same height, if only because of her heels.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Vicky,” Ewan said as he shook her hand, his Scottish brogue made her want to giggle like a little girl. “Tom has told us all about you.”

 _Us_. “Well, I am sure none of its good,” Vicky managed to quip. _Us, who the hell was “us”?_

“I’ve been meaning to ask Tom, but how long have you two been dating?”

Vicky was very glad at that moment she was not drinking anything. It would have gone all over Ewan’s outfit. “He hasn’t said anything because we aren’t dating. We’re just friends.”

“Really now,” Ewan laughed and look at Tom. “The way you go on about her mate, if I were you I’d snatch her up quick.”

“Her mother and I are still hoping,” Diana said with a smirk.

Resisting the urge to crawl under the nearest rock and hide, Vicky laughed with the rest of them.

“I am sure that it is every mother’s wish that her son find some well suited,” Ewan said.

“I don’t know about that, if Vicky and I even ended up together I think we all know I would end up with the better end of the deal, to turn a phrase,” Tom laughed.

Where was the nearest fire exit? Vicky actually did a scan to see if she could find one.

Ewan graciously talked with them a little more before being called away.

Tom was now standing next to her and nudged her with his arm. “So was meeting him all you hoped and dreamed?” Like any best friend he knew she had a celebrity crush on him since before he became popular from the new _Star Wars_ movies.

“Thank you,” Vicky said and gave him a side hug, which he returned in the same manner.

A man approached them with a camera. “Perfect, do you mind?”

“Of course,” Tom beamed and readjusted his arm around Vicky, pulled her closer to him, his longer fingers wrapped around the curve of her shoulder and arm.

“One, two and three,” the man said. The pair smiled brightly at the camera. He took a couple shots.

“Thank, do you mind taking one with me and my mum?” Tom asked.

“Certainly.”

Tom put an arm around his mother. “Show her some love,” Vicky baited him, “she is your mom for goodness sake.”

They all laughed and Tom wrapped both of his arms around his mother looking like a little boy as he stood there and smiled. The photographer took a couple more pictures of Tom before wandering away.

“You know I should worry about those photos,” Vicky said later that night as they left the party.

“Why?” Tom asked as he put his jacket around her after seeing her shiver.

Vicky quirked her lips to the side and then replied, “Because someday they’ll surface when you’re big star and someone will ask me,” she paused as she slipped her arms into the sleeves of his jacket. She could practically swim in the thing. They missed the knowing smile from Diana as Tom helped Vicky adjusted it around her shoulders. “How someone allowed you out of the house with that horrible tie. I’ll be blamed for it, I’m sure.”

Tom looked down at the yellow and floral tie. “What’s wrong with my tie? Why didn’t you say anything earlier? I like this tie!”

 

**_15 January 2008 – West Hollywood, CA_ **

“Kenneth Branagh?” Vicky asked again as she walked around her apartment, cleaning as she went, her phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. It was her habit when she was on the phone with Tom, if she happened to be at home. Tom had been telling her, rather excitedly, about being close to working with Kenneth Branagh in a crime drama based off some books she had never heard of. Tom was going for a part as one of the cops that worked with main character.

“Yes and I am completely serious,” Tom replied.

“But you don’t have the part yet,” Vicky said tentatively.

Tom chuckled, his voice vibrating the speaker in her phone. “I like the way you think – _yet_ , makes me feel like I may actually get the part.”

Vicky dropped the pile of random magazines she had been collecting onto her sofa and stood straight up. “Like hell, ‘may actually,’ you are so going to get that part. They’re having you sign a damn contract. Plus you earn extra sexy points for wearing a gun on your hip.” She shut her eyes and slapped a hand to her forehead and sat down. She did not just say that, did she? Crap.

“Sexy points, how else does one earn sexy points from you,” Tom teased her. _Pendejo_.

Standing up again, she began to pace the small room, thinking quickly. “They’re not sexy points from me, per se; they’re more like points from the general female population. Girls like knowing that a guy knows how to handle a gun – and _dio mios_ , I swear if you make one innuendo joke about that am going to hang up.”

“All I was going to say was that I could show you exactly how to handle _my_ gun.”

“Goodbye Thomas.” _Click_.

 

**_July 2012 – West Hollywood, around 4 p.m._ **

Vicky started at her laptop screen, her email account up. It had been sitting in her inbox for a couple of days. She hadn’t opened it, scared to open it. _Why was he emailing her? Calling her and texting her?_ The text she had artfully avoided on her iPhone by waiting for another text to show up so she could delete it from her inbox without having to read it. The voicemail she had just deleted on sight.

She was 90% positive he was trying to contact her about something related to whatever project he was working on. Thor 2 was coming up she knew (not that she was following his career anymore); maybe he was asking for some more comic recs? Whatever, he could ask someone else. She was sure Marvel had a whole team standing by waiting to help him.

“Mer-row.” Her cat, Ramses, brushed against her from where she sat on her small sofa.

“I know, I know, food,” Vicky muttered and closed her browser and shut down her laptop. “It’s ok though, I have it all ready.” She ran her fingers through his short black hair, looking into his orange-red eyes. “Then we get to go to the vet and get all your shots updated for the big move.” She could have sworn he gave her a look of disapproval.


	11. Chapter 11

**_10 January 2009, Saturday – Los Angeles, CA_ **

Vicky was shaking her head as she approached him, obviously trying to contain her mirth at something. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“We have discussed this Tom,” she said, laughter in her voice.

“Discussed what?”

“That either you need to find a stylist for events like this or email me the pictures of the outfit you’ll be wearing. Because what on God’s green earth _are_ you wearing?”

Tom looked down at his outfit. He was actually quite proud of himself. He had on some oddly matched shirt and jacket combination, she thought. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She gave him a look like he was an idiot. “Tom, seriously, get someone to dress you, and by Zeus’ hairy big toe what is going on with your hair!”

“Now you’re just being mean.” He pouted.

Vicky shook her head. “Look, we’ll discuss it when we get back to my apartment. All I will say until then is that I told you should have gotten in good with the wardrobe people from Wally. They probably would have let you steal Magnus’ clothes.”

“Wallander,” he corrected.

She gave him her Cheshire cat smile. “I know I just wanted to antagonize you. C’mon, let’s get going. I’ve got a game tomorrow.”

“A game?” another voice joined them.

Tom watched as Vicky very slowly turned to the owner of the voice, her eyes wide. Tom thought it was very cute that her mouth opened and closed in small motions before she kept her mouth closed and looked down at the ground.

Well, that was something he hadn’t seen in a while, a shy Vicky.

He greeted the man, “Ken, glad I could catch you before I left. I would love for you to meet Vicky. Vicky, this is Ken.”

Vicky shook Kenneth Branagh’s hand and said a very bashful but polite hello. Kenneth returned the greeting. Tom didn’t think he had seen Vicky blush so much since he met her.

“Tom has told us so much about you,” Kenneth said with a smile. If possible Vicky turned even redder; she was beginning to give the tomato a run for its money.

Vicky gave a small laugh at that. “You know people keep saying that when Tom introduces me but I haven’t figured out it that’s a good thing or not.”

“Definitely good,” Kenneth laughed. “The man can’t shut up about you.” It was Tom’s turn to blush. “He mentioned that you are actually quite a bit of comic book fan.”

Vicky covered her face with one hand. “Oh, no, he didn’t.”

“Yes and he said you have an impressive collection.”

Dropping her hand she sheepishly looked at the older man. “I was a bit of a tomboy when I was younger, only played and rough housed with the boys until I was about twelve. Then they realized I was a girl. We were all into comics though. I just happened to save mine. Tom likes to thumb through them whenever he is over.”

And then the two started to talk about comics, everything from how Batman was a modern Byronic hero (Vicky’s actual favorite topic when it came to comics) to portrayal of same-sex couples such as Mystique and Destiny. Most of it went over Tom’s head – he thought Mystique had a thing for Magneto! – and it seemed as if the two were going to go on forever. He was actually getting a little jealous. Not that he had any real reason to, Ken was happily married and it wasn’t as if Tom was dating Vicky. She was just one of his best friends whose time he planned to monopolize for the next week or so. Ken, while he liked the man, was encroaching on said time.

“Fascinating!” Kenneth laughed. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I must dash.  It has been a real pleasure talking to you, Vicky.” The three shared goodbyes before parting.

“Did that just happen?” Vicky asked as she and Tom walked away.

Tom smiled, “I think it did.”

“I just talked comics with Kenneth Branagh, the man who directed and starred in _Hamlet_ , one of my favorite Shakespeare plays.”

“I do believe that is what happened.”

Vicky turned to Tom, a huge smile across her face, her dark brown eyes shone with joy. “That was one of the most mind blowing things I have ever done! Wow, you are so lucky to work with people like that.” She sighed, a smile still playing on her lips. “Ok, wow, so I don’t know if you’re hungry or not but I’m craving In-N-Out so that’s where we’re going before we get your things.”

“As you wish,” Tom replied.

That was one of the many things he loved about Vicky. Her focus was never on the people Tom met in his line of work, she didn’t use him to meet the celebrities he knew. Even a couple years ago when he brought her the after party for _Othello_ he had to beg and plead, guilt trip her into attending it because he knew she had a little crush on his co-star Ewan McGregor. To her it was a nice perk that sometimes Tom forced her to take advantage of. Like finding a prize in a box of candy she initially didn’t want. It was why, when he did talk about her, he always made sure it was known how amazing she was.

* * *

 

They arrived back at Vicky’s little apartment. She still couldn’t believe her luck at finding the place. It was like a hidden jewel. Parking was underground and assigned, there was a small pool for when it got too warm and rent was actually pretty reasonable considering the location. Especially for the size of the place, granted it was only a one bedroom, one bath but it was actually on the more spacious side. Well, for West Hollywood, just off Sunset.

The only disadvantage was that there was no elevator. So walking from the garage up to her second floor apartment was nothing new, but she still mentally lamented that she didn’t live on the first floor, or was it ground level?

‘Oh gosh Vicky,’ she thought to herself, ‘you’re getting so tired you’re getting your American and British terms messed up.’ She rubbed her right temple. ‘Blame it on Tom.’

 “ _Mi casa_ ,” Vicky sighed as they finally reached her door and she opened it, flicking on the lights as they entered. Tom closed the door behind them and in unison they fell onto her small sofa and exhaled with relief.

“I didn’t realize how tired I was until just now,” Tom said, resting his head on the back of the sofa.

Vicky copied him and turned tired eyes to him. “I’m sure it also didn’t help that you ate that Double-Double burger, fries, a soda and shake. Yeah, all that food is not making you tired.”

Tom gave her a look. “I am a growing boy; I need all the food I can get.”

“ _Querido_ , you are almost too old to say that.” She kicked the side of his calf with her foot. “C’mon, get up and help me pull out your bed.”

He groaned but stood up when she did. “I don’t think it’s fair that you can just drop bits of Spanish jargon as you wish.” They started to remove the cushions from the sofa.

Vicky smirked at him as she flung the cushions across the room. “I get to because I can speak the language fluently. You however, Mr. ‘I spent a couple of weeks in Madrid and took a handful of lessons’ can’t do that, no matter what you think. Besides you can’t roll your R’s properly.”

They both grabbed the black bars of the sleeper and started to tug. “I can’t even begin to comprehend the meaning of that,” Tom grunted as he pulled. The mechanism didn’t budge.

“Again,” Vicky instructed and they tried pulling again. “It makes perfect sense, besides it makes me want to weep for you when you do try to roll your R’s.”

They tried several more times to pull out the sleeper but it wasn’t budging. This caused Vicky to grumble as she we went to a small closet by the front door and took out a toolbox and flashlight. Kneeling in front of Tom’s would-be-bed she shined the light down the sides and then, with Tom’s help, tilted the sofa up and back so she look underneath.

“Son of a…” she didn’t finish the curse and told Tom he could put it the sofa down. “There’s this little bit that is sticking out in the arm, its bent. Don’t know how it became bent but it is.” Vicky sighed and stood up, running a hand through her hair. “Look, take my bed I’ll sleep on the sofa. I’m not going to fix it tonight. With the racket I’ll make I’d wake the neighbors.” She picked up her toolbox and flashlight, taking them back to the closet.

When she turned around Tom was still standing by the sofa, his arms crossed determinedly in front of him. If it wasn’t for the serious expression his face wore, and his stance exemplified, Vicky would have been inclined to laugh. He still wore that ridiculous white and blue shirt combo with the black suit jacket. His curly hair, if possible, had become even more unruly.

“Did I do something?” Vicky asked as she approached him.

“You are not sleeping on the sofa,” Tom said.

Vicky quirked an eyebrow, “Uh yes I am, because there is no way that you’ll fit your long ass body on this thing.” She rolled her eyes, thinking the discussion was over, and began to pick up the cushions.

“What kind of guest would I be if I let you sleep on the sofa while I took your bed?” Tom asked as he helped her.

“What kind of host would I be if I didn’t?” she countered. “Just let me change real quick and then you can have my room, ‘kay.”

“No.” He put the two seat cushions back on, knocking them back into place with his knees.

Vicky stood up from where she was placing one of the back cushions in its place and put her hands on her hips. “Do you want to sleep on this dinky thing or were you planning to sleep on the floor?”

Tom wavered for a moment before answering, “I was planning on neither.”

Vicky rubbed her face with both hands. “What then, you planning on sharing the bed with me?”

One beat. Two beats. “Well, why not?”

She blinked a few times. “I’m sorry, what?”

Tom finished putting on the rest of the cushions, “Why not? If your bed is large enough then we’ll share it for one night. Tomorrow you can fix it and I’ll take the pullout.” He gave her that smile that still made her knees a little weak. “It’s not like we’re going to do anything besides sleep. We’ve shared a bed before, after all.” His smile thankfully looked sheepish as he ran a hand through his curls, waiting for her reply.

Oh, no, he gave her that little boy look. It was akin to the puppy look. That just was not fair. She hated him (ok not really) and loved him.

And that was the truth of the matter. Right there, hidden where she felt no one could see it. She still cared for Tom. Vicky was hesitant on calling it love. However over the past year she had realized that for her there only seemed to be Tom. Sure she had dated guys and had genuinely liked them, but they weren’t Tom. She tried to play it cool with him. Sure there were a few slip ups here and there, but it was nothing that quick thinking couldn’t cover up.

Now the man who had become her best friend, this curly haired loon, was suggesting they share a bed and that sleeping was the only activity they would participate in. _Dios mio_ that was not the only activity she wanted to do with Tom in bed.

Vicky crossed her own arms. “Fine, but I get the right side.”

“As you wish,” Tom replied. “I assume you wish to go to bed soon since you have a game tomorrow.”

Vicky groaned at being reminded of her game. It wasn’t for a league or anything, just an impromptu softball scrimmage game of some of her old college teammates and friends. She was actually looking forward to it, especially since Tom was going to come and watch her. He had never actually seen her play and often teased her that softball couldn’t be that exciting since it had “soft” in the name.

“Fine,” she whined. “Let me change and then, yeah, to bed. I have to get up early.”

* * *

 

Getting into bed was only slightly awkward. No weird bumbling of getting in between the sheets or awkwardly bumping limbs. It was just that neither felt all that comfortable to assume their preferred sleeping positions. Personally Vicky liked to sleep on her stomach. Having Tom in her bed made her feel like she couldn’t do that.

So they had taken to resting on their sides facing away from each other. They made a few jokes about stealing the covers and snoring but gradually fell quiet.

Vicky for the life of her couldn’t get her mind to calm down. She wondered if she waited long enough, when she was 100% sure that he was asleep, if she could roll over and snuggle up to his back. ‘I could always play it off that I was asleep and didn’t know what I was doing,’ she reasoned.

Mentally she groaned. This whole scenario played out a like a bad romance plotline where the two main characters were forced to share a bed because they were snowed in and then had wonderful amazing sex after a few light touches and soft words.

Granted however much she wouldn’t mind having mind blowing sex with Tom she didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

To Tom she was just a friend, for Vicky he was so much more but she’d only claim her affection for him as friendship.

‘You’ve got to get over this,’ she instructed herself as she stared into the dark. ‘This can’t be healthy, right, pining after a guy for almost six years.’

Right as she came to the realization that these feelings hadn't just developed in the past year, but had in fact been there since _that_ Christmas, a warm arm slithered around her waist. Vicky tensed up and froze, barely breathing as Tom settled behind her, his long fingers danced across the strip of exposed flesh where her shirt drifted away from her, his long lean body pressed against hers. Vicky closed her eyes, feeling Tom’s breath on the back of her neck. This wasn’t fair.  Who was reading her thoughts and conspiring against her?

She debated on whether or not to slip out of bed and sleep on the sofa.

The part that wanted this to be real, that Tom was more then a friend cuddling up to her while she slept, the part that had wanted that one _perfect_ week to have continued right through to the present and beyond, won out.

Once she gave up it was surprising how fast she fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**_11 January 2009, Sunday, West Hollywood, CA_ **

His hand met empty space as he sleepily searched out for something. With his eyes closed, he patted around on the bed for a few moments before opening them. He was alone.

Also, this was not Vicky’s pull out sofa.

_What the hell hap-oh that’s right.  
_

The fiasco with the pull out came back to him. Blasted thing worked every other time he’d been there. Now it was somehow broken. Vicky said she wasn’t sure how it happened. Tom’s mind, which was still waking up, thought in that moment of one way that it could have broken. He stopped that train of thought post haste: he did not want to think of Vicky and any other man doing anything on that sofa besides sitting. There was also the fact that his mind called up a very vivid picture of his friend nude (and him between her legs, but he’d blame that on his mind not working at full capacity).

As if his ears just realized the rest of his body was up he slowly started to process that someone was singing.

“Spam! It’s pink and it’s oval. Spam! I buy it at the Mobil. Spam! It’s made in Chernobyl. Spam!” came Vicky’s voice through the closed bedroom door, the song playing in the background. “S-p-a-m. Don’t you know it’s my best friend? S-p-a-m, again and again and again and again!”

Tom couldn’t help but chuckle quietly before making the decision to get out of the bed and get ready for the day. After a quick shower and getting dressed he joined Vicky in the kitchen. She was still singing, back to him.

She had now moved on to “Adrienne” by The Calling, her so called song crush from a few summers ago.

“Oh, Adrienne, I thought I knew you. Once again, you used me, used me. Adrienne, I should have left you. Long before you used me, used me up.”

He had been fully prepared to give her a light ribbing about her signing, it wasn’t _that_ bad, but all the teasing words died on the tip of his tongue at the entrance to her small kitchen. She moved her hips back and forth sharply as if to enunciate each word as she sang. She looked to be waiting for something in the toaster. However that was not what made his mouth go dry. If it was just his mouth going dry he could have handled that. It was what she was wearing: a sports bra and black compression shorts. And that _was_ _all_ she was wearing.

He knew from past girlfriends and female acquaintances that the sports bra was essentially to keep women’s breast contained. Certainly it contained Vicky’s chest better than a normal bra but the cleavage it created, he was sure, was not its intention (he hoped). Tom opened his mouth to say something, exactly what he wasn’t sure, but the words never went from his brain to his tongue.

He must have made some noise or perhaps she felt his presence behind her because she turned around. “I thought I heard you get up.” She smiled at him, clearly in a good mood which was rare for her in the morning. She must have already downed her coffee. “I don’t have anything fancy for breakfast today except for some Eggo Waffles, toast, and coffee. I forgot to shop for breakfast while -.”

“What are you wearing?” Tom managed to croak out.

Vicky looked confused for a moment before she looked down at herself and then rolled her eyes. “Oh, sorry, while I was getting dressed in the bedroom you started to move and I thought you were waking up. I didn’t want to disturb you so I tossed on what I could before coming out here.”

Silently he cursed himself for missing an opportunity at seeing her in the nude. Then took it back, glad he hadn’t spoken it out loud.

“Let me finish getting ready. Your waffles should be popping up soon,” she said as she passed by him, giving his arm a squeeze.

He restrained himself from turning around to admire just how her arse looked as she walked away. Once she was gone his breakfast popped up and he set about to fixing it to his liking. When he was done eating his breakfast Vicky remerged wearing black shorts over her compression shorts with a gray shirt with a faded Nike logo on it. Tom couldn‘t help but smile at her shirt. His smile quickly turned to a laugh at her socks.

“Are those really necessary?” he asked as she entered the kitchen and skirted past him to go to the refrigerator for a water bottle.

Vicky closed the refrigerator door and raised a dark eyebrow at him. “Are what really necessary? My braids?” She tugged one of the braids at were at the side of her head, which made her look several years younger.

He shook his head, “No, your socks.” They went to about her knees and had red stripes going up the sides.

She looked down and wiggled her toes. “I love my socks. When it gets cold enough I wear them all the time.”

Tom looked at her with a straight face and said, “You live in Southern California.”

Vicky lifted her chin up in defiance and said, “We have seasons here!”

 

**_Wilson Park, Torrance, CA_ **

He watched at Vicky warmed up with the other women that showed up, doing stretches and quick little runs back and forth. Tom was happy to note that he was not the only male watching the lovely display. He spied a couple of the men placing bets.

Tom turned to the nearest man and asked, “Is this game that serious?”

The guy laughed, “Dude, you have no idea. Sure all the girls will say this is just for fun but I guarantee you that by the end of the first inning those pretty little smiles you see on their faces now will be gone and replaced with looks of war.”

Tom couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Really, I find that hard to believe.”

The guy shrugged, “Trust me. You want in?” The guy waved a slip of paper at Tom. “We aren’t doing anything fancy. Just which side will win, that’s all. Most everyone is going for their girl’s team. Want in?”

“Yeah, put me down for whatever side Vicky is on,” Tom said.

“Diaz, eh? Good pick man. Your name?”

“Uh, thanks and I’m Tom Hiddleston.”

The guy nodded and added Tom’s name to his list. “Name is Jared, I’ll be Ump’ing the game. Put you down for twenty?”

“Sure,” Tom agreed, glad he happened to have US currency on him.

After the players were done warming up and a coin toss was done, half went to the field with gloves, while the half Vicky was in went to a long bench where they placed all their gear.

“What are you wearing _now_?” He asked as he saw her slip a pair of colorful foam looking shin guards on as he stood behind the fence that separate the players from the crowd.

“They’re sliders,” Vicky said as adjusted the sliders and retied her laces on her cleats.

“What is their purpose?”

Vicky looked up at him and caught his eyes, dark meeting light. “Oh, you’ll see.” Then she smiled at him, and it wasn’t her Cheshire cat smile, or the smile he’d see just before she’s laugh, no this smile felt more personal. As if it was just for him. It was unexpected and caught him off guard. He felt as if he stumbled but hadn’t moved from where he was standing.

“Go sit down, enjoy the show, we’re up to bat first.” Vicky instructed, returning to her bag and pulling out an aluminum bat. He was going to say something more when her attention was pulled from him.

Tom quickly found out that the sport of softball was anything but soft. He let out a small curse the as the pitcher gave her first pitch. He was sure with the way she pitched, making her look a bit like a windmill in a hurricane, that the ball would in no way possible go where it was needed. Yet it did.

Jared, the man who was acting as umpire, and married to one of the women on Vicky’s team, was correct in his assessment. By what Tom gathered was the end of the first inning the playful attitudes of all the women changed when the other team, while Vicky’s team took their turn on the field, scored only to get their third out (that’s what they called it, right?) immediately after.

It seemed that it was akin to a declaration of war. If it weren’t for the rules of the game he highly suspected there might be a cat fight, but for the most part the game moved smoothly. Most of it was taken out on the ball, but Vicky led her team in war chants whenever it was their turn to bat. The competitive gleam in her eyes could have been seen from space.

Tom gave up trying to keep track of the innings as the game went on. He also learned exactly what the foam shin guards were for. The players would pull them up just over their knees when they went to bat and some would push them down if they were able to make it to base. The sliders, as Vicky called them, protected them if they had to slide in the dirt. It would turn out he would be very glad Vicky wore them on each leg, unlike most girls.

The game was drawing to a close, and the score was close. The other team had switched pitchers, and Vicky was up to bat. From where he was sitting he could clearly see that the two did not care for each other just by the looks they exchanged. No one else seemed to notice. The women still on the bench were harassing the pitcher and catcher with their chants while those on the field were heckling Vicky.

The first pitch was at eye level with Vicky. Jared called it a ball. Vicky took a moment to adjust her helmet before stepping back up to the plate. The second pitch was low and crooked and went right into her left thigh, which was the facing the pitcher.

Vicky immediately dropped her bat and hopped away from the plate. Tom stood up, concerned that something horrible had happened. Why the hell we're they throwing the ball so fast? Why couldn’t they gently lob it? Jared and one of Vicky’s teammates rushed to Vicky, who was hobbling around. If he knew Vicky, and he did, she was probably stringing together an impressive amount of curses in Spanish and English.

In the time it took him to debate on whether or not he should go on the field to see if she was all right her teammate picked up her bat and collected her helmet. Vicky slowly jogged to first base as Jared called it a “walk”. Tom knew that, without seeing her, her lips were pressed thin and there was a crease between her brows, a look of determination on her face. She was going to do her best to mess with the other team.

Sure enough at the next pitch she ran for the next base and slid to claim it. She was clearly safe. While her team rallied for her with another chant he could see her slightly grimace. Her thigh clearly hurt. The next throw found the pitcher throwing it behind her. He had seen it done earlier in the game and gathered that it was an effort to get the girl from the opposing team out if she attempted to leave the base. Vicky wasn’t doing that but she was poised, ready to run, with her right leg ready to lead. That’s where the ball went, instead of the woman’s glove that was guarding the base. Tom heard a _thump_ as it connected with her calf near her shin, right in the padding of her slider.

“Hey!” Tom called out and shook the fence. He had not realized he had walked up to the fence and had taken hold of it until he heard the metal rattle. No one really paid attention to his little outburst. She was declared as still safe. He watched as she shot another glare at the pitcher before turning her attention to the batter.

Vicky got to the next base by honest means and was trying to take home. That was where the ball hit her for the third and fourth time. She was trying to make a run for it when the ball was hit, but it was a foul, which meant she had to get back to her base. Just as she reached it someone, Tom didn’t see which player, threw the ball into her back right shoulder. The next time the ball connected with her shoulder, in nearly the same place, it was as she was slid for home.

There was a lot of red dust in the air to clearly see what happened but Vicky was declared safe. The catcher and pitcher came up to argue with the umpire. When the pitcher pointed in Vicky’s face she swatted the other girl’s hand away and walked off the field with a glare at the pitcher.

Once things settled down the next to last batter went onto the field. Tom watched Vicky. He didn’t try to approach her as her face was set in hard lines. She went to her bag and took out her trainers and switched them for her cleats, quickly.

Standing up on the bench, facing the field, she yelled, “Excccuuuusemeee!” Her arms were stretched wide open. The girls sitting on the bench with her stopped what they were doing and looked at her. Indeed a few of the other team on the field looked at her.

Satisfied that she had people’s attention she shouted, “My name is Vicky!”

“Rock the boat!” her team replied.

“I’m feeling groovy!” She gave a little roll of her hips.

“Rock the boat!”

“You mess with me!” and she jabbed a thumb at her chest.

“Rock the boat!”

“I’ll hack a loogie!” Vicky spat on to the field.

“Rock the boat!”

“I said bang, bang, choochoo train, wind me I’ll do my thang. No Reese’s peanut butter cup, mess me up I’ll mess you up!”

It was a message and a distraction, and did its job on both counts. Some players on the field were too busy watching his crazy friend allowing several errors to happen, and two more people to score. The pitcher also refused to look at Vicky when the game was over and the teams were shaking hands the pitcher who had thrown the ball at Vicky, at least twice, actively avoided her. She didn’t look angry but rather wary.

Tom wanted to laugh, by looks alone the pitcher looked to have the advantage, until he remembered Vicky punching his cousin. He’d concede then that the woman had something to worry about.

* * *

 

After the game Vicky, Tom, and most of her team went to a restaurant called BJ’s Pizza at a nearby shopping mall.  Tom was so caught up in her joy at winning the game he didn’t even think to ask if her injuries hurt.

It wasn’t until they were back at her flat that he even thought to ask if she was all right.

“Psh, I’m fine,” Vicky replied when asked. “I’m just going to take a shower and then I’ll be right as rain.”

Tom took her at her word and settled on her sofa to watch telly. He heard the shower start and the shower stop through the walls but it wasn’t until he hadn’t heard anything for what seemed like ages that he grew concerned.

He felt a flutter of panic rise suddenly in his chest. “Vicky,” he said and knocked on the door. “Are you still alive?” He meant it as a joke. There was no reply. He knocked again. “Nike? Did you escape through the bathroom window?” He waited no reply. The panic grew. “I’m coming in there. I hope you’re decent.”

Tom opened the door and his eyes did a quick sweep of the room. Nothing. He was about to go forward when he noticed that she was laying on the floor, face down, on the side of the bed. As he rushed to her he found that she was clothed, but looked to be unconscious.

“Fuck,” he said as shifted her and picked her up. “Fuck, what happened Nike?” He placed her on the bed and shook her as he knelt on the floor next to her. He didn’t know what else to do.

Vicky finally parted her eyes open and gave him a silly grin. “Do you know what Vicodin does to me?”

Letting out a sigh of relief he replied, “No, what does it do to you.”

A giggled bubbled out of her. “I don’t know but I understand why now some people are addicted to it.”

His eyebrows drew together in concern. “Where did you get Vicodin?”

Another giggle, “One of my friends, she had a prescription. I told her how much I was hurting and she gave it to me. Took it right before my shower.” She reached up and patted his cheek and then let her hand rest there. “Pretty boy.”

“Are you high?”

“Yup,” she made the “p” pop. “I do believe I am, _querido_.”

“Bloody hell,” he sighed. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier, that you were hurting? No doubt from that girl hitting you.”

Vicky frowned. “Because I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t strong.”

Tom looked at her sharply. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I love you like a duck loves water,” was her reply and she settled back into the bed, her eyes closing.

She wasn’t thinking straight. Unable to suppress another sigh he stood up to take his leave.

“Tom,” he heard her call out and turned to watch her get under her blankets. “Come back. I don’t like feeling like this.”

He nodded and said, “Of course. I’ll be right back.”


	13. Chapter 13

**_11 January 2009, Sunday, West Hollywood, CA_ **

Vicky hummed in contentment as she felt someone run their fingers through her hair. If she was a cat, she would have actually purred. As it was she curled her toes in pleasure and her arm curled tighter around something solid. The fingers in her hair paused for a moment before continuing.

She felt very content and knew the moment she opened her eyes this little slice of bliss she was experiencing would end. It was so nice though. Warm and snug, Vicky didn’t want what or whomever it was to leave.

If she let her imagination drift it would like to insert Tom as the one running his long, graceful fingers through her tresses. Yes, that was a nice fantasy.

“Are you awake, darling?” Tom’s voice came.

It was her turn to tense up. Vicky ventured to crack one eye open to take in everything around her. She was in her room. That was good. However the man in her bed confused her for a moment. Was she still dreaming? His fingers were still traveling through her hair, and moments ago hadn’t she wished that it was him?

She was going crazy.

Either she spoke it out loud or Tom read her mind because he said, “No, you’re not mad.”

“I beg to differ,” Vicky mumbled as she continued to assess things.

Tom, under the covers with her, was propped up against her headboard, pillow behind him, and a book in his free hand. She had her arm wrapped around his waist; her head had been resting on his chest until she moved it to look up at him. Still his fingers ran through her mostly dry hair.

“What time is it?” Vicky asked as she reluctantly pulled herself away from him.

Tom frowned at her movement but turn to look at the clock next to him on her nightstand, “Almost eight.”

“At night,” she groaned.

“Correct.” He marked where he stopped reading and place the book on the nightstand. “You seem better this time.”

Vicky raised a dark eyebrow at him. “This time, all right explain because I’m confused. Last thing I remember was, and you can correct me if I’m wrong, you putting me in bed.”

He smiled down at her, the hand that had been in her hair wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her up so she was sitting next to him. “Yes, if you don’t count the when you told me that your love for me is comparable to that of duck’s for water, you woke up, briefly, twice.”

“Twice,” she repeated and crossed her arms.

“First to apologize for not having breakfast for tomorrow after which you giggled until you fell back to sleep,” Tom explained. “The second time you admitted to taking both of the Vicodin pills your friend gave you and that you were probably only supposed to take one at a time.”

Vicky let out a humorless laugh. “Sounds like something I would confess. I think at the time I was thinking of taking them like you would Tylenol.”

He gave her arm a squeeze and stood up. “I thought so. While you were sleeping off medication I took the liberty of ordering pizza as that is the only number I could find. It should still be fairly warm.”

“Food does sound spectacular right now,” she admitted and smiled up at her nurse.

 

**_15 January 2009, Thursday, West Hollywood, CA_ **

Tom ended his call and walked back into Vicky’s flat. Music drifted through the flat, though Vicky wasn’t singing this time. She had her sofa flipped up as she was trying to fix the bent arm – again. It turned out on closer inspection that the thing was pretty mangled. Vicky and Tom continued to be stubborn so neither of them had taken the sofa and just decided to share her bed while he stayed there.

“So?” Vicky asked when he walked in, as she used a large monkey wrench wedged in the mechanism to, hopefully, to bend things back. It had become a point of stubborn principle, for her, to fix it rather than a need.

“Would you be opposed to sharing your bed for a little while longer?”

Vicky pulled the wrench out and dropped it on to a towel she had laid out next to her so the thing wouldn’t get her carpet dirty. However, that didn’t prevent the black mark that appeared on her forehead when she swiped the back of her hand across it. Who knew a pull out bed could be greasy?

“What are you asking?” Vicky questioned him as she turned around to face him.

“My agents, here, said that Ken wants to meet with me to discuss the possibility of being in a large project.” Tom went to the coffee table and pulled a tissue from the box that was there and used it to wipe off the dirt mark.

“Large project,” Vicky repeated and stood up; wiping her hands on her jeans.

He nodded, his blonde curls bounced slightly. “Yes. A film and I don’t want to get my hopes up on what it is, but I might have an idea.”

She stayed silent for a moment before speaking. “All right, but we’ve got to get you at least one decent outfit. I know you know Ken – god that feels funny to call him that – but you have to look presentable. I am not allowing you to wear that outfit you had on Saturday.” Vicky gestured to his current shirt, a blue button down, “And you aren’t wearing this again.”

They didn’t end up finding much when they went shopping. Tom ended up purchasing one red shirt and a white button down shirt since he didn’t bring one with him, and Vicky insisted on splurging on a black leather jacket for him. “Consider it an early birthday present,” she had insisted.

Needless to say Vicky shot Emma an email asking her friend to take her brother out shopping when he got home because Tom wasn’t taking her word that, “the clothes help make the man.”

“Look, you need a few core pieces and can build from there. Emma can help you when you get home.”

Neither of them realized that Tom wasn’t going home right away after that meeting. They didn’t know it was going to be four months. It was a period both of them would refer to in their own minds as their “married” period.

 

**_16 February 2009, Monday, London, 2:00 am_ **

Tom sighed as he lay back on his bed. He had just got back to his flat after attending a party after he accepted Theatregoers’ Choice Award for Best Supporting Actor for his roles in _Othello_ and _Ivanov_. It was great; he mixed and mingled, drank some champagne and chatted with wonderful people. However he felt like something was missing.

He reached up to loosen his tie and at the same time he pulled his phone from his pocket. His jacket was unceremoniously dropped on the floor when he entered his bedroom. Without looking he hit the last number he had in his presets and brought the device up to his ear.

It rang several times before going to a recording. “Hey, you’ve reached Vicky and my sometimes roommate Tom. We are not here right now so leave your name –“

Tom didn’t wait for it to finish before hanging up. After some calculating he realized it was about six in the evening in LA. If he called her now she was probably out, possibly with friends. He could just call her mobile but he didn’t want to interrupt her if she happened to be out the movies or in middle of a conversation. Tentatively he sent out a text. Sure he could wait to call her later but he was not in a patient mood at that moment. When a reply came back in the affirmative that he could call her on her mobile his fingers quickly went to the first number he had in his presets.

“You’re up late,” was her greeting.

Tom smiled at hearing her voice. “I actually just got back. Working late?” He was teasing her; he knew she had recently picked up several books on her favorite subject: Greek mythology. Tom had told her she could probably right her own book. Vicky just scoffed at him.

“Sure am. How did it go?” Vicky asked. He heard her fingers glide over her keyboard in the background.

“Well,” he replied, distracted by what she was doing. “Are you sure you can talk? I hear you typing in the background.”

She laughed, “Yeah, sorry. I was just finishing up an email. First of all congrats and did you wear the suit?”

“Thank you,” Tom said and felt his pride swell a little. “And yes I wore the suit.” Before he had left Vicky had given him specific instructions on what to wear. His attire for that evening was traditional: black suit, black tie, white shirt.

“Good, I didn’t want to see you in that flower tie,” she teased, her smile evident in her voice.

“Right, of course, I’ll have you know that I still own that tie.”

“Burn it.”

He retorted, “Never.” They both laughed. When they were done he let out a deep sigh and said, “God I miss you.”

She laughed, it didn’t sound mocking to him (thank goodness) but rather like she didn’t believe him. “It has only been two days, well ok three days. I would think that after spending a whole month with me you couldn’t wait to get away.”

He rubbed the base of his neck. “I happen to like our arrangement right now,” he admitted. “It feels weird not being able to see you.”

“Whatever,” her verbal equivalent to an eye-roll, “I’m sure you’ll be happy to have a bed to yourself for once.”

Tom removed his tie and began to unbutton his shirt. “Anything exciting happen in the short time I’ve been away?”

“Nah,” she said. “Oh, wait! Yes! One of my co-workers here wants to get rid of their sleeper sofa. I’m going to take a look at it after work tomorrow, get some measurements. If all goes well I could have a new sleeper and we’d have our own beds by the time you came back.”

Instantly hating the idea, he said, “Oh, that’s not necessary. I don’t mind sharing the bed with you. You don’t need to get a new sofa on my account.”

“Tom I hog the freaking bed. As soon as I fall asleep I _know_ I just glomp onto you. That can’t be comfortable.”

“Is ‘glomp’ even a word? And I sleep perfectly fine with you attached to me a like a leech. Thankfully, unlike a leech, you do no drain me of blood.” Tom didn’t want to admit that it was usually him swallowing up her in his arms at night. Of course, he didn’t want to admit many things.

She gave a dramatic sniff and he could imagine that she titled her chin up in mock defiance. “In some places online, yes, it is a word. If you’re asking if it is in an actual _accredited_ dictionary, that people use, it is probably not. Look, I’ll take a peek at the sofa. If it’s in good condition and barring it being in some horrible pattern or threadbare I’ll probably take it. You might not mind sharing what little space I leave you but if my brother or someone else visits after, well, uh, I’m not going to be all that receptive of sharing my bed with them. I’m going to need a new sleeper sofa someday. Got it?”

She didn’t voice the option of getting a two bedroom flat since it seemed as if he was going to be spending a great deal of time at her place. Of course Tom wasn’t getting paid much, and honestly he was surprised he was getting paid at all, for his lengthy audition for Thor – he had long ago told Vicky about the part. There was also the fact that he would return back to London after this.

Tom nodded, even if she couldn’t see him, and sat up, his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he took off his shirt. “You are absolutely right, Nike. I forget you don’t like everyone else as much as you do me.”

The jovial laugh she let out warmed him better than any blanket could. “I think that award has gone to your head.”

He was more than happy to find out, later, that the sofa was upholstered in a hideous flower print from the eighties and that Vicky declined the offer to take it.

 

**_21 February 2009, Saturday, West Hollywood_ **

“Your eyes are still glassy,” Tom said, setting a cup of herbal tea on the nightstand next to Vicky. 

She gave him a dark look. Being sick was never fun and she hated being sick around Tom. One, he had another meeting coming up for _Thor_ and she didn’t want him to get sick. That’s all she needed on her head: get him sick and somehow cause him to lose this role. There…was…another reason but her brain was currently cooking with a fever and it lost the train of thought.

“You should go to bed,” he added as he put some clothes away in the dresser.

Yes, Tom had his own drawers in her dresser, and his own side of the closet. He even had his own designated hook in the bathroom for his towel. They were like a freaking old married couple. They even joked about it. She’d often come home for work and announce in her best Ricky Ricardo impression, “Honey I’m home!” and he’d called her “wife.” This pleased and amused Vicky at the same time.

“If you haven’t noticed I am in bed,” she replied gesturing to herself as she lay in bed.

It was Tom’s turn to give her a look. “I meant for you to go to sleep.”

“What is wrong with reading in bed?” she asked, wagging her well read book at him. Not that she had really been reading it, more like staring at the pages hoping that the little black clusters on the pages would turn into words.

“Nothing wrong with that, except you have a fever and need your rest.”

She moaned and groaned in what Vicky knew was an unappealing whining way. But she was sick, damn it, so she had an excuse. “But it’s not late enough. It’s only seven or something.

Tom corrected her, “Actually it’s nine in the evening.”

“Really?”

“Truly.”

“I don’t think I can. My brain is soup but I don’t feel tired at all.”

He finished putting the last of his clothes away and walked over to his side of the bed, pulling back the coverings. _His side of the bed_ , that sounded so odd and it made Vicky giggle at the thought of it. Tom gave her a look as if to say he wasn’t sure why she was laughing. Tom shifted in the bed until he was closer to her, nearly in the middle.

“Why don’t I read to you?” he asked, gesturing to the familiar book. “It might put your soupy mind at ease.”

Vicky tried to process why this was a bad idea. Something was definitely telling her that this was a bad idea. She started to protest but her body apparently forgot how to breathe and she choked on air. Holding a concerned Tom at bay with one hand she grabbed the tea he had brought her and ungraciously chugged down half the contents. While she drank her tea, Tom took the well read book from her.

“Fine,” she grudgingly replied once she recovered, “you can read to me.”

He gave her a toothy smile, “That’s a good wife.”

Vicky gave him another dark look. “I would say something witty but all my brain is coming up with is ‘Uh, no,’ and that’s not terribly clever.”

Tom didn’t reply and instead held his arm out so that she could rest next to him as he read. Vicky had read the book many times and had even taken a pen and highlighter to it once to mark all the passages she liked and her thoughts on them. Still it was always nice to be read to. So she shuffled across the short distance and took up residence against Tom’s side.

“Where shall I start?” he asked as he thumbed through the pages.

“Start at the beginning,” she said, “and when you get to the end: stop.”

“Yes Alice,” he said, recognizing the quote.  “Let’s see then, _Body of a Woman_ by –”

Vicky shifted and drew the covers up further, interrupting him as she did so. “You’re not going to read all of Neruda’s poems like that, are you? You’re not doing a voiceover or whatever.”

“I haven’t even started,” he replied. When she didn’t respond he went on.

“Body of a woman, white hill, white thighs,” Tom’s deep voice rumbled under her ear where her head rested on his chest, “you look like a world, lying in surrender. My rough peasant’s body _digs_ in you, and makes the son _leap_ from the depth of the earth…”

Vicky was content to close her eyes, listening to the way he brought the poem to life in a decidedly Tom-way.  She loved how he made some words sound as if he was breathless, or others so strong that she could practically see the bold face type on the words he spoke.

“But the hour of vengeance falls, _and I love you_ ,” his voice drifted over Vicky as she snuggled deeper into Tom.

He had just finished the poem and looked down at his friend. She was already fast asleep. Putting the book on the nightstand he decided not to read on.

Periodically he’d wake up during the night and put his long fingers to her forehead to make sure she was not getting any warmer, all the while making sure she was near his side.

 

**_7 March 2009, Saturday, Ralph’s (Grocery Store)_ **

Two large cat eyes looked back up at him. He couldn’t decide if they were red or orange or somehow shifted between the two.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Tom voiced. “Who will watch him during the day?”

Vicky had her back to him as she bent down and ran her hand along the kitten’s back. “He’s a cat. They generally don’t need watching after you housebreak them.”

The mother and daughter who were selling the litter outside of the grocery store Tom and Vicky frequented smiled at each other. “Oh, if you take that one home you’re in luck – he actually is potty trained. He’s smart, that one, so watch out,” the mother said.

Vicky turned back and gave Tom a smug smirk before turning back to the kitten. However the kitten didn’t take its eyes off Tom. “I’ve always wanted a black cat. His eyes are gorgeous too. Just look at them, you only find that color at sunset.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I think I read somewhere that demons have red eyes.”

Vicky ignored him and told the mother and daughter duo that she’d stop by before they left.

Tom wanted to sigh in relief. If he was going to get a pet it would be a dog. Cats were too aloof and created far too much mischief for his liking. He thought Vicky was a dog person too, she grew up with two.

Inside the grocery store Tom was in charge of the list as they travelled up and down the aisles. Vicky was amazing at stretching their budget to fill their cupboards by somehow always finding the things they needed on sale. She was also time efficient. So while Tom would push the cart she led the way taking the most effective route. They didn’t linger anywhere, unless it was the bakery. It surprised him then that they took a turn down an aisle they had no business being down: the pet aisle.

“Oh, no, you can’t be serious,” Tom moaned.

Vicky smiled sweetly at him. “Look, you can moan and groan about this but I want that cat. It’s not like you’ll always be around. I’ll need someone to keep me company on my days off while I veg out.”

He knew it was just a trifling remark so Tom did his best not to show how it cut him. “It’s a cat,” he said as if that explained everything.

She looked over the cat food. “Yes and you’re a giant. What has that to do with the price of rice in China? Besides a cat is easier to conceal than a dog in my apartment _and_ I don’t have to walk it.”

He grumbled some more but she apparently considered the topic closed as she put cat food, cat litter, and a litter box in their cart. Done shopping they went to check out.

“What are you going to name it,” Tom asked, still disbelieving that she was actually going to get the cat.

She shrugged, “I don’t know something myth-y though, Hades or Pluto – no not Pluto – Perseus, something like that.”

After they paid they exited the store. Bloody cat was still there. He stood back and didn’t pay attention as she paid for the little beast.

When they drove away the cat insisted it sit on Tom’s lap. He could have sworn the feline looked smug about it.

 

**_Morning Nap-time, Interrupted (What? Cats don’t have calendars or clocks. Peasants.)_ **

Ramses watched as his pets scurried around looking like, to him, mice. He wasn’t sure what they were doing, or really cared what the reason was. They were disturbing his nap-time. His red eyes glared at them as the curly haired one asked the female where something was. A passport, whatever that was. He just knew it was useless to him

It took Ramses a while to figure out their names. For humans and their fancy way at communicating they were confusing things. His old pets had simple names. These new ones used far too many. He finally figured out that the male was “Tom” not “Giant” or “Honey” or “Husband” (though he was often called those by his other pet) and the female was “Vicky” not “Nike” or “Love” or “Wife.” As a cat he didn’t understand all the extra names. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t stick to one. Like Ramses. They called him Ramses and so he was Ramses. He didn’t answer to anything else, when he did decide to answer that is.

Tom came and picked him up from his spot on the sofa. Ramses gave his pet a disapproving look. “I’m sorry, mate,” Tom said.

Ramses sneezed at that to show his disapproval at the term being directed at him. He was _definitely_ not Tom’s mate. He was pretty sure that Tom and Vicky were mated to each other. The cat was just glad Vicky had not (as far as he could tell) gone into heat yet. Not that they did any actual mating. He was not ready to deal with a little human around, because for whatever reason you had to keep those things for _years_ before you could get rid of them.

He was deposited on their bed as Vicky rummaged through their fancy boxes. Drawers, or dressers, they were called. Ramses was still learning what his pets called those types of things. Seeing as she was preoccupied he took the opportunity to slip under the covers and curl on Tom’s side of the bed.

Tom had not liked Ramses at first. The cat couldn’t understand why. He was a cat, what was there not to like? So Ramses did what his mother had taught him: “kill” him with kindness. So he took to sitting on Tom’s lap, rubbing against Tom’s legs, he even went outside once and brought back a lizard for Tom. Vicky loved Ramses right away so he didn’t have to do much to impress her. He quickly found that she liked it when he was affectionate, so to reward her for good behavior he’d nuzzle her neck and curl up with her when she was still for more than five minutes. At night she was his sleeping buddy. That is when Tom wasn’t curled around her. He could be possessive of the female at night.

Ramses realized he had won his pet over when Tom came home one day and sat down next to him and began to pet him without Ramses prompting him to. He had grudgingly admitted to Vicky that he was a “pretty cool cat.”

He must have dozed because the next thing the cat knew the bed dipped at the end.

“Why the tears, love?” Tom asked.

Ramses did not like the sound of that. He knew tears were bad. Rousing himself he quickly scrambled out from under the covers. His pets were sitting on the end of the bed, the male had his arms wrapped around the female, and her head was tucked under his chin.

“You’re leaving, and I’m going to miss you and it sucks that you live so far away,” Vicky said, her voice muffled.

Ramses carefully stalked over to them. Tom gave him a look as if he was asking for help. If he could have laughed Ramses would have. He didn’t know what to do. The only thing that he could think of calming her down was rubbed against her. So that’s what he did. He was largely ignored but he persisted.

“It’s not like I’m going to forget you,” Tom replied.

She sniffled, “I know but four months, that’s the longest I’ve roomed with someone outside of college.” Vicky pulled away from Tom, which off balanced Ramses for a moment. “What am I going to do with all that damn chicken in my fridge?”

This made Tom laugh but gave Ramses ideas. It wouldn't hurt her if she fed it to him. While he had only had his cat food it was obvious that this chicken was something special. Since arriving he had seen that this chicken stuff had done wonders for Tom. His pet had clearly gained mass. Ramses thought he could do with a little more mass.

They started to talk about other things but Ramses lost interest and trotted out of the room to take up residence on the sofa, again, where he proceeded to clean his coat.

Later that night Tom and Vicky left but only Vicky came back. He thought nothing of it at first. Except for several sunrises and sunsets Tom did not return. So Ramses would call out for him, Vicky would give him more food but Tom never answered.

The cat was sure time passed but he rarely kept track of it. Vicky tried to introduce other males into their home. Ramses protested. Tom came back several times in which Ramses would ask him not to leave.

But he always did.

And Ramses assumed more time passed, but as always time wasn’t ever important to him. He did notice things change around him. A new sofa was obtained, Vicky’s hair style changed (and so did Tom’s, several times), weather varied outside, along with his collar a couple of times.

By the time Vicky packed bags, luggage he thought it was called (he was getting better at the human terms) he was well used to it being just the two of them.

Ramses sat on the arm of the sofa as Vicky walked out the door, telling him that her brother (who he thought of as the Idiot) would be by to feed him and change his litter. Before he knew it she closed the door and locked it.

He wasn’t happy about her leaving; this was different from her being gone for the day. He could feel it in his whiskers. Not much he could do about it. No matter how much he tried to train his pets they always seemed to do what they wanted, not giving any thought to how he felt.

He supposed that’s what you risked when you took humans in.


	14. Chapter 14

_**23 December 2010, Thursday, London** _

“Oh, oh God, Tom!” her voice carried through the wall. Tom did not verbally respond, however he could be heard grunting in reply. “Yes! Harder, harder, aw fuck!”

Vicky buried her head under her pillow and turned up the volume on her iPod, hoping to drown out the noise. She did not need to hear this; she did not need to hear this!

This had to be the worst way to wake up – ever. In college she had a bucket of color water dumped on her. Once at a sleepover when she was little, her friend’s brother had woken them up with a bullhorn. This took the cake.

And because of this she was probably going to have hearing damage considering how high she had the volume turned up. It still didn’t seem enough to tune them out. She resorted to humming the words to Backstreet Boys’ “Everybody” as it played. It didn’t really help and made her question her taste of music at thirteen.

“Oh, uhn, faster, faster, oh, oh, huh, huh…” his girlfriend’s voice started to go higher, and unfortunately Vicky probably knew why.

Unable to stand hearing them rutting in the next room Vicky quickly got up and grabbed her clothes and toiletries and dashed out of her room to the bathroom. She was not going to bang on the wall and tell them to be quiet and she wasn’t going to hose them down like unwanted animals on the lawn. No she would exact her revenge in a way that worked in her favor: she was going to use up all the hot water.

Vicky was not ashamed to say that she went painfully slow while she showered. She washed her hair twice, waited the full two minutes her conditioner recommended to leave in her hair before rinsing, and her legs were exceptionally smoothed when she was done with them. She may have also, without shame, stood under the warm water stream just because.

After taking her sweet, sweet time in the shower she carried on with her sloth like pace as she fixed her hair and got dressed.  When she was finally done, and looking exceptionally good today (if she did say so herself), she left the bathroom only to run into a half naked Tom. He looked like he was coming from the front door, probably seeing his girlfriend off.

“Oops, sorry,” Vicky quickly apologized. Unable to help herself she did a quick once over on him. Thank goodness he had at least put on pyjama bottoms.

“No, it’s all right; I should have looked where I was…” Tom’s voice trailed off as he took in Vicky’s appearance. “You look nice today.”

“I’d like to think I look nice every day,” Vicky quipped and did her best not to stare at his chest, which had been built up in the last two years.

Tom seemed distracted as he replied, “No, right, right, are we supposed to be going somewhere?”

Vicky laughed, “Yeah, we were meeting Emma for breakfast, remember?”

He groaned and threw his head back in frustration. “I completely forgot.”

She couldn’t help the smirk that graced her face. “Yeah I wouldn’t except that you would, especially after you’ve had a tumble in the sheets.”

The color drained from his face, making his dark hair stand out even more. She didn’t think she would be completely used to that. Sure she had seen him with his slicked back, black Loki hairstyle. She had seen him with short, reddish-blonde hair for his roles as Fitzgerald and Nicholls this past summer. And now his hair was short and dark, left over from part as former WWII pilot that he just finished filming earlier that month.

“You didn’t see anything, did you?” Tom asked.

“No, but let’s just say that both you and I know what Susannah sounds like when she orgasms – and _I_  didn’t even have to take her out to dinner.”

Tom covered his face with his hands. “I am so sorry Vicky,” Tom’s muffled voice replied. He slid his hands over his face and gave her a sheepish, embarrassed look.

Vicky shrugged, trying to show that she was not still slightly disturbed by it. “It’s…well, I may have to get some earplugs so I can actually sleep. Or go stay with Aunt Millie since she’s living in town now.”

His hand shot out quick as a viper and caught her wrist. “No, don’t go. She’s going to be with her family for the next few days.”

She twisted her hand out of his grasp, giving him a look. The look she caught in his blue eyes was slightly panicked, with a touch of fear. “Ok, don’t get your panties in a ruffle,  _querido_. I’m staying.” Vicky eyed him as he let out a relieved sigh. “I don’t know how much hot water is left,” by which she meant: none, “but please do take a shower. I’ll meet you there.”

Tom nodded his head, “Right, no, of course. I’ll try to be quick.”

He saw her to the door, after she grabbed her coat and purse.

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, my brother said what?” Emma asked.

“He introduced me as his cousin, to Susannah,” Vicky repeated as they waited in line. The girls had opted out on an actual sit down breakfast and had instead gone to a little café of sorts. Vicky had found it last time she had been in London. They had great pastries and served a variety of crepes.

And they made her coffee just the way she liked it – with copious amounts of sugar and milk. Bonus for the shots of vanilla and pumpkin spice they added in today.

Emma seemed unable to form a proper sentence. She started and stopped several times before she said; “Now I don’t feel bad at all.”

“Sorry?”

“No, I do, I mean I love my brother, I truly do, but sometimes he is just gives a whole new meaning to the word ‘imbecile.’”

Vicky rolled her eyes in agreement. “Yeah, well, he just made things abundantly clear. I mean its one thing to be  _friend zoned_ , it’s even worse to be  _family zoned_.” She paused, “Oh gosh, that makes this whole thing sound slightly incestuous.”

It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes. Her phone chimed and she pulled it out from her coat pocket to check it. “Look I’m sure things will work out,” she replied as typed a response to a text.

Eyebrow raised, Vicky asked, “Does your response to your brother crushing the small hope I had of us in one day being more than just friends having anything to do with you not ‘feeling bad’ now and that text message?”

Emma grinned as they took a step forward to the counter, “Perhaps. Oh, did I mention I invited a friend to join us?”

Vicky took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. “I swear if you are trying to set me up or something –  _I don’t even live in this freaking country_.”

Her friend (and cousin – if you went by what Tom said) just smiled sweetly. “Perhaps I am just providing you with some eye candy, as you say.”

There was going to be proper retort, there really was, but it died on Vicky’s tongue as her eyes spied a tall, blonde man walking in.  _This_  man was the definition of eye candy.

And he was coming right towards them.

“Emma,” he smiled as he walked up.

“Callum, glad you could join us,” Emma replied with a soft smile.

He laughed, “Promise of company this holiday was enough.”

“You are alone no longer,” she turned to Vicky. “Callum, this is my friend Vicky. She’s visiting from the States. Vicky this is Callum, who is moving to the States.”

_Oh you’re a sneaky one Emma._

Callum took off one of his gloves to shake Vicky’s hand. It was pleasantly warm and his shake was nice and firm. “Lovely to meet you, Vicky,” Callum smiled brightly at her.

“Nice to meet you too,” she replied and returned his smile.

* * *

 

Tom had received a message from his sister with the change of location after a cold shower (not of his choice). However it did not say anything about someone joining them.

It wasn’t hard to spot Emma, Vicky and…a person.

“Sorry I’m late,” Tom smiled as he approached. He couldn’t help but notice the smirk that appeared on Vicky’s face, as if he just said the punch line to a joke.

Emma got up and greeted her brother. She introduced him to her friend, Callum. Tom joined them at the table, forgoing standing in a queue to order to sit with them.

It did not escape Tom’s eyes the way Callum’s gaze kept drifting over to Vicky, even when she wasn’t the one speaking. He also saw the way Emma’s eyes twinkled when she caught this as well. He quickly concluded that his sister must have something to do with this. He’d have to have words with her later.

For the time being though, he turned all his attention to Vicky.

He couldn’t bring himself to completely dislike the fellow though. Callum was polite and actually listened to what Vicky was saying (because there was no doubt that was who he was paying attention to). Tom quickly learned that Callum was moving to Los Angeles to be an accountant for some company or another.

“Really? Have you found a place in LA yet?” Vicky asked with an excited grin on her face.

“Venice but I was trying to find one around Alhambra. That’s where I grew up,” he explained.

Vicky laughed. “Either you can give a Tom a run for his money with impressions or I sense a story – if you don’t mind sharing.”

Callum grinned at her and Tom wanted to roll his eyes. “I was born here and moved to the States when I was thirteen and moved back here when I was twenty-four. As much as I love it here I miss home more.”

“You sound like my dad. He’s from here too,” she explained. “I think though he mainly stayed in the US because he fell in love with my mom and didn’t want to leave her.”

“Aww,” Emma said.

The other man smiled brightly, “If she is half as pretty as you are I could see why he stayed.”

Emma had been taking a sip of her drink and nearly snorted it out of her nose, while Tom did in fact roll his eyes at Callum. “Vicky looks nothing like her mother,” Tom said knowing that he’d be correct on whichever mother his friend thought of.

Vicky shot Tom a look. “What my  _cousin_  means to say is that I am more or less adopted.” She turned her attention back to Callum, “Though the compliment is still appreciated.”

Cousin?  _Cousin_? Since when had he become a  _cousin_?

Tom quietly mulled it over as he continued to sit there and watch Callum flirt with Vicky as she told her story of making it to London by the skin of her teeth the previous Sunday.  It had been a close call seeing as much of Heathrow was shut down the next day due to the storm that came in. He remembered being worried her flight wouldn’t come through because even on Sunday many arrival flights were already being cancelled.

When Callum and Vicky eventually got up from the table to order more drinks, Tom turned to his sister. “What did she mean by cousin?” was the first thing he asked.

Emma sipped her tea and smiled sweetly at her brother. “Why, isn’t that how you introduced Vicky to your girlfriend?”

“Why would I refer to her as my cousin?” Tom asked, bewildered.

“I don’t know Tom,” she replied with a slight shrug, “but whatever hope I had of see you two producing ridiculously good looking children has been dashed upon the rocks.” Emma gave a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I shall have to rely upon Sarah on giving me adorable nieces and nephews.”

Tom laughed. “I should say so. She is after all the only one in a long term relationship out of the three of us.”

His sister gave him a look. “That is besides the point, what I meant was that any hope you had with Vicky I am sure has been lost with your silly ‘cousin’ comment.”

He blinked in confusion at his sister a few times before he replied. “You know, I see your mouth moving and know there are words coming out it but I can’t for the life of me understand  _what_  you are saying.”

Emma opened her mouth, no doubt to give him a piece of her mind when Vicky and Callum rejoined them.

“I know I should be rooting for the home team, but I’ve always been partial to the Chargers,” Vicky was saying to Callum. “Especially since I moved to LA, I know they aren’t the best team out there but I like watching their games.”

Callum chuckled as he sat down; Tom noted that his eyes never left his friend. “I haven’t watched football in ages though I have to say I remember being partial to the Rams.”

Vicky gave him a look as if he sprouted a second head. “Take that back now before you regret it,” she warned. “I don’t think I can socialize with someone who roots for the Rams.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I recant the last part of my statement and substitute the Packers for the Rams. I can’t alienate my one acquaintance I’ll have in LA.”

“What are you talking about?” Emma asked.

“Football,” Vicky replied, “or rather American football.”

“I played in high school,” Callum said in turn, as if that explained everything.

Emma was content to sit back and let Vicky and Callum talk. True, her intentions on inviting Callum may had been initially to just have another male there to draw Vicky’s attention away from her brother – who she knew would loathe that – but this was working out fairly well. The two really seemed to get along. Seeing as that her dunce of a brother had burned his bridge of ever one day ending up with their mother’s pick – and she  _was_  their mother’s pick, not that she ever voiced it – Emma thought Vicky could do worse.

As she looked over at her brother she just couldn’t understand why Tom was so resistant to the idea of a relationship beyond friendship with Vicky. Emma could understand perhaps why when they first met nothing really happened, to her knowledge, because she was young and true there was the whole distance factor. They made their friendship work incredibly well despite the space separating them so why couldn’t a long distance romantic relationship work as well? Frankly she was surprised that Tom had not truly moved to Hollywood last year.

While Emma was contemplating the lack of a romantic relationship between her brother and Vicky, Tom was trying to appear affable. Making comments when appropriate and laughing when called for. However internally he was turning over what Emma had said, or rather what she meant.

Tom was never able to make sense of what her point was. Not long after the four said their goodbyes with Emma and Callum going their ways with Vicky and Tom going theirs.

 

**_24 December 2010, Friday_ **

Amy and John’s little home was filled with people for their Christmas Eve party. Tom was feeling a little off but wouldn’t have missed it. He missed their wedding this past October and while he had patched things over with his best friend, Tom didn’t think missing the party would have been a good idea.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Vicky said coming to stand next to Tom after talking with Amy. “What were you thinking when you picked out your outfit.”

Tom took a sip of his drink. “Why, I didn’t think I did too terribly.” Surely she couldn’t criticize him for what he was wearing: his leather jacket, white shirt, black pants and boots.

Her brown eyes raked over him before finding his eyes, “Yeah, except you’re wearing brown shoes with black pants.” She gestured to his cowboy boots.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Vicky gave him a look of disbelief. “Yes! Think about it this way, would you wear an all black suit with brown shoes?”

“No,” Tom answered after a moment. He had to picture what that would like and had to admit that would not be good.

She gestured down to his shoes. “The same applies when the colors are reversed.”

He laughed and pulled her against him. “Well there is only one thing that can be done then.”

“What is that?” she asked as she slipped her arm around his waist.

“I will just have to wear these boots,” Tom said as he bent his head down to her ear, “with all my black trousers because I know how much it will just  _piss_  you off.”

She huffed and pushed away from him, “Jerk.” Like an insolent child she crossed her arms, which made Tom laugh. “You know I will call you out on it each time I see you do it.”

He just responded with more laughter. It would be a high point for the day seeing as soon as they returned to his flat he’d collapsed on his bed, his work load from the past year and the exhaustion caused by it catching up with him.

 

**_31 December 2010, Friday, London_ **

They could have gone out to a posh, star studded party; Tom had been invited to several or even to just John and Amy’s little get together. Instead they were sitting on his sofa watching Jools Holland. It’s what happened when one of the two people on the sofa basically had no energy. He had been compared to a zombie several times in the past week.

So there he and Vicky were, lounging on his sofa. He was glamorously dressed in old sweats and a black jumper he received for Christmas. Vicky was similarly dressed except the jumper she wore she nicked from him.

“You know, you could have gone out,” Tom said, his dark head turning towards Vicky.

She just shrugged in reply and tossed a piece of popcorn into her mouth.  After another moment she replied. “What was I supposed to do? Get ready and go have some fun while you stay home? As if, plus whom else was going to play your nurse since Susannah got sick?”

Tom did not know how to respond. Especially with the look she gave him. It probably would have been easier if she rolled her eyes or if her voice had been dripping with sarcasm. Instead Vicky’s was just so full of…he really couldn’t put words to it. All he knew was that it made him feel warm from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.

“Thank you, Nike,” he said, belatedly realizing she was making a comment about something on the telly.

It caught Vicky off guard because he said it with such sincerity. She just nodded and after a moment went back to munching on the popcorn. Tom just grinned to himself and stretched out, taking up much of the space, and placed his head on Vicky’s lap after he moved the popcorn bowl to the floor.

“Do you have any New Year’s resolutions?” he asked, looking up at her.

She shrugged, “Yeah, maybe but if I tell you it won’t happen.”

“That’s dreams, Nike, if you tell what you’ve dreamt it won’t come true.”

“Doesn’t matter, still applies.” She started to run her fingers through his dark hair. It felt a little wrong only because she was so use to his endless golden curls. To see his hair dark and short, she realized she was not fully used to it. Every time he left the room and came back it always surprised her to see it still dark, as if his hair would return to normal once he was out of view.

They were silent for a long while, just enjoying each other’s company. It was Tom who eventually broke it.

“You like Susannah, don’t you?” Tom asked.

Her fingers paused in his hair before she removed them. For a brief moment Vicky forgot that Tom had a girlfriend. “Of course, she’s lovely Tom. You two have my stamp of approval, for what it’s worth. I can’t believe you convinced her to date you, poor girl.”

Tom laughed at her last jab, if only to cover the way it felt his heart had been squeezed. “I’m glad to hear that. You two seemed to be getting along and I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t an act. That you weren’t secretly having it out while my back was turned.”

“Thomas, have more faith,” she laughed.

He placed his hand over his heart, “I shall never doubt you again.”

She looked over at his hand, a faint smile appearing on her lips. He’d seen that smile many times before. It was her secret smile. Not that she was hiding something, but more like she was thinking on something treasured, something hers alone.

“Did I ever tell you what my mother said about hands?” Vicky asked.

Immediately he knew she wasn’t talking about Laura, but rather her birth mother. He could tell by the tiniest inflection in her voice when she said “mother.” After knowing Vicky for so long Tom knew her full story, knew what she went through, and also knew he was one of the few privileged people to know it. He wondered sometimes if even her best friend, Amy, knew Vicky’s full story.

“I don’t believe you have,” Tom responded, content to listen to the memory she was going to share.

“When I was little, I don’t know where we were, but we stopped to watch a man as he drew on this large sketchpad,” she said, her eyes looking at a different place and time. “And she told me, very quietly, to look at his hands. That you can always tell an artist by their hands, regardless if they have a brush, a pencil or a pastel in it.”

“And how can you tell?” he quietly asked. 

Reaching over she gently lifted the hand he had placed on his heart and took it between her own hands. “Their fingers, she noticed many artists had long, graceful fingers. I know now that isn’t completely true but I always look at people’s hands to see if they have ‘artist hands’.” She turned his hand over, palm up, and traced the lines of his fingers with her own. “I have to wonder now if she didn’t mean all artists: musicians, writers, painters, actors.”

“I’m glad to see that my profession is included.” He closed his eyes, concentrating on her touch.

“Of course, Freckles,” Vicky said with a small laugh.

He cracked open one blue eye to peer at her. “Freckles, is that a new nickname?”

She nodded in reply. “I had to think of something else besides ‘Husband’ as that is wildly inappropriate now. And after meeting Chris this past year I can’t really call you ‘Giant’ anymore. So Freckles it is, you’re covered in them so it only seems appropriate.”

Tom didn’t mind Freckles. He’d been called worse in school. With one eye still opened he said, “So I can’t call you ‘Wife’ anymore?”

“Hell no, not unless you want your girlfriend to hate me and since I’m your cousin I think that would confuse people,” she chuckled. It was a laugh that he thought she meant to mean that she found humor in being his "cousin". It didn't completely hide the hurt she felt though.

He captured her fingers, which were still dancing across his palm, in his own. “You know I didn’t mean to call you that. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you are less than a friend or make our relationship sound inconsequential.” Both of his eyes were open now and searched hers.

She debated on pulling her hand free of his or not for a moment. Not wanting to make him think that she was offended she let her hand remain. “Tom, it’s ok, really. It’s probably for the best, especially since you have a girlfriend.”

Vicky did not want to point out that he had girlfriends before who he had introduced her as his friend, and as someone whose parents were “old friends” of his mother’s. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze.

“It’s fine Tom. I’m fine.” It was the only thing she could think of saying without her exposing her own feelings.

Their attention was drawn away from each other as the television was announcing it was just a few minutes to midnight.

“Up, up, up!” Vicky said, taking her hand back and using it to push his head up from her lap. “I’ll grab the champagne and glasses.”

Tom quickly complied and sat up, allowing Vicky to dash out of the room. An idea took root in his head and he grabbed the blanket that he had used earlier in the day as they had lounged. When she came back with two flutes, a towel and a bottle, he had a wide grin on his face.

“Follow me,” he simply said, suddenly having more energy than he had had in the past week. Tom had the blanket bundled in his arms as he led Vicky out of his flat and up the service stairs to the roof. It was overcast and if Tom had to guess he would have said it was around 5°C.

“ _Dios mio_!” Vicky exclaimed, on cue, as they arrived on the roof. “Bloody freaking hell.”

Tom laughed and led her to a table another tenant of the building brought up long ago. “Careful darling, you’re starting to sound a bit like me.”

Vicky rolled her eyes as she came to stop next to him. “Want to tell me why you drag me out of your nice warm flat into this bitter cold.”

“It’s not that bad,” he scoffed.

“I know, they’re having similar weather today back home – I check the weather on my phone earlier – but let a girl know next time. I could have at least worn a few extra sweaters.” Vicky put the glasses and bottle on the table. She started to bounce and rub her hands together.

Tom unbundled the blanket and offered it to her. She gladly accepted it and wrapped it around herself. He went to task opening the champagne and pouring it into the flutes.

“To a wonderful New Year,” Tom said and handed her a flute. They toasted each other, drinking the bubbly beverage and placing the empty glasses back on the small table.

“Now let me in under there, you’re right it is bloody cold,” Tom said with a shiver. She only laughed and offered an end of the blanket to him. He wrapped it around his right shoulder and with his left arm he wrapped around her and tucked her into him. She responded by wrapping both arms around his waist.

“Even though its overcast, where we stand now,” he explained, “we should be able to see the fireworks go off at the Eye, or at least the ones high in the sky. They go off right at midnight so we’ll know when the New Year starts.”

“Sounds great,” Vicky replied with a shudder. He responded by rubbing her back and pulled her closer.

He laughed, “You weren’t joking when you said your people weren’t built for this weather.”

She shook against him, tightening her arms around him in an attempt to steal some of his warmth. “One can learn to adapt if you have enough layers on, which I am sorely lacking.”

Tom apologized and rubbed her back fast in an effort to generate more heat. His mind started to wander in the few minutes that lead up to the start of 2011. He thought back on another time, just the two of them, wrapped in blankets sitting near a pond. And for a moment they were seventeen and twenty-one again, all those old feelings he had thought were long gone turned out to be closer then he thought.

In the distance he heard a faint popping sound, the noise no doubt carried to them due to the clouded sky. Seconds later the clouds were cast with a red glow as fireworks rang in the New Year.

Vicky looked up at him and smiled, “Happy New Year, Tom.”

Tom swore that if her smile were a promissory note it would be greater than all the gold in all the vaults. “Happy New Year, my Winged Nike.”

She had expected a little peck on the lips from him; she had prepared to give the same to him. The way Tom’s lips touched hers though she knew it was not going to be some friendly kiss. You could not blame her for getting caught up in the kiss, relishing in the way his lips felt against hers. It had been years since she had kissed him like this but it only felt like yesterday that it had happened.

Their arms tightened around each other, as if the other was trying to draw them into themselves.

The ball of pure bliss that was building in Vicky burst when she felt Tom’s tongue brush against her bottom lip, wanting permission to seek solace in mouth.

She suddenly remembered, no matter how much she wanted this, wanted to meld with Tom, this was completely and utterly wrong.

He had a girlfriend, who would have been there if she had not caught a cold. And Vicky was not  **that**  type of girl.

Forgoing the warmth, and the feel of Tom’s arms around her, she pushed away from him but gave him a crooked smile. “Wow, um, Susannah must be jealous if you kiss all your friends like that.”

It was a quick, sharp, but deliberate reminder that there was someone else out there waiting for him.

Tom looked at her, confused for a moment before what she said registered. “Susannah…yes, I mean no. She probably wouldn’t too happy. I suppose I let the bubbly go to my head.”

Completely out of the warmth of the blanket, Vicky backed up. “I’m still freezing. I think I’ll head back downstairs to watch the rest on the TV in your nice warm flat.” She gave him a small smile before turning and leaving.

Tom returned her small smile before she turned away and left him on the roof, alone. The fireworks were still going off in the distance. He ran a hand through his hair. Tom wanted that kiss and couldn’t feel completely guilty about it though he knew he should. He really, really should.

He stayed on the roof a few moments longer before collecting the champagne and glasses and heading downstairs. When he entered his flat he deposited the bottle and glasses in the kitchen. Vicky was nowhere to been seen, his stomach dropped thinking that he scared her off and she had left. A door opening in the hallway dispelled that belief.

Vicky emerged from her room, no longer wearing his jumper and now donned one of her own. “Hey,” she greeted him with a soft smile. “I decided to give you your sweater back before I packed it away with my stuff,” she teased.

“Thank you,” Tom said, treading lightly in his words. “The fireworks might still be on the telly. You want to watch it or perhaps a movie?”

“Actually, I thought I might go to bed.” She gestured to the room behind her.

Tom smirked, “Right, of course.” He approached her slowly; as if she was a skittish cat that he was afraid would bolt at any moment. “Goodnight hugs then?” He needed that reassurance that she wasn’t leaving, that she would stay there through the end of her visit.

She looked hesitant, her dark eyes searching his before she agreed. Tom lightly wrapped his arms around her middle, and she did the same around his neck.

“Goodnight,” Vicky said as she withdrew her arms from around his neck.

“Sleep well,” he replied as she slipped through his hands into her room.

Tom was overcome by a wave of sadness, Vicky’s “goodnight,” to him felt as if she was almost saying “goodbye” instead.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Vicky's Dress]](http://www.polyvore.com/dont_forget/set?id=68992093)

**_2 May 2011, Venice Beach, California_ **

A warm arm wrapped around her waist as Vicky stirred in the early morning. Her alarm was going off, interrupting the pleasant dream she was having and had promptly forgotten. A groan escaped her mouth as reached for her phone that had the alarm set on it. She was very tempted to toss it across the room but refrained. It was still dark out, the sun no doubt on its way to chase the night away. Vicky turned her attention back to the pale arm that still encircled her waist and smiled.

She trailed her fingers up and down it. "You need to get up," she told the arm’s owner.

"Five more minutes," he grumbled.

Pushing the covers off her she stood up and stretched to get her blood flowing. "Well, I am going to take a shower before I have to drive you to the airport. I thought it would be nice if you joined me but I suppose five more minutes in bed is worth it." Vicky let out a dramatic sigh as she started to walk away. There were two things she’d teach him about her in the mornings: either she was grumpy or she was just a bit horny.

He sat up so fast she was sure that he would get dizzy from it. "Join you in the shower," he replied in his wonderful English accent.

"Only if you're fast enough," she teased. "Otherwise you are going to have to wait until you come back."

That was enough incentive for Callum. He jumped out of bed and quickly followed her into the bathroom.

After their shared, fun filled shower, and both nearly dry, Callum insisted on drying her hair. Vicky thought it an odd request but she just shrugged it off and allowed him to towel dry her hair.

"You going to be alright while I am gone?" he asked as he scrunched her hair in the towel.

Vicky rolled her eyes, "No Cal, I shall sit by the widow, fretting over until you get back." She closed her eyes as he ran a hand through her damp hair. "I'll be fine. I have survived fairly well before you came along. I think you being gone for a few days will help distract me."

Callum pushed his chest against her bare back. "Will you miss me?"

"Of course I will. You know I will!" Vicky said, faking indignation.

Callum grinned, left the restroom quickly before returning. "Let me see your wrist," he asked.

She gave him a sideways glance before holding out her right hand. "You aren't playing a joke on me or something?"

He chuckled and slipped a bracelet around her wrist, "Something to remind you of me while I am away. It is also your birthday present." It was gold with two, small round charms right next to each other.

Vicky really wanted to make some kind of snide remark but her eyes locked onto the bracelet. "Cal, oh my gosh, Cal _there are freaking diamonds on this_!" And there were, two little diamonds set in the charms.  She tried to take it off one handed. There was no way he should be getting her something so expensive. They had not even been dating for that long.

He silenced her with a soft kiss to the lips. "I insist. Also, I thought it might go well with what you were going to wear tonight."

"Since when did you become interested in fashion?"

"Since the saleswoman said this would go with just about anything."

"Right," she captured his lips for a few moments. "Now let’s get you all packed up and loaded into the car before you're late for your flight.”

 

**_2 May 2011, Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel_ **

Vicky checked and rechecked herself in the pocket mirror again, for the 1000th time it seemed, since she had finished getting dressed. She smoothed the skirt of her dress, which would be her nervous habit for the night, and made sure that her hair did not have any fly-aways sticking up. She turned her head to left and then to the right. This was as good as it was going to get. Vicky worried that she wasn't going to be dressed nicely enough; she was going to embarrass herself and those around her. The thing that churned her stomach the most was that _he_ had asked her. Tom called her out of the blue wanting to know if she'd be willing to accompany him to the premiere. Vicky had refused, made excuses, but apparently he had developed the ability to give the puppy dog eyes over the phone.

Getting out of the cab she smoothed out her white blouse and paid the driver.

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this, I am an idiot,’ she thought as she entered the Roosevelt Hotel. ‘They’ll take one look at me in my off the rack dress and kick me out for sure.’

If it had been any other time she would have taken a moment to stand in the lobby and gaze up at the ceiling admiring the style of artwork, Vicky would have studied the flow of lines in the architecture, and try to find the mirror that Marilyn Monroe supposedly haunted.

As it was, Vicky was nervous as hell as she crossed the lobby. Tom had told her to just to go up to his room when she arrived. For her that was easier said than done. She was sure, as her heels clicked along the tile, that she’d be turned away as not being recognized as a guest of the hotel.

Much to her immense relief she was not stopped and questioned. No one tried to kick her out.

As she stood in front of the door to his room she fiddled with her dress one more time and took a deep breath. “Now or never, Vick,” she coached herself and then knocked on the door.

After several moments she heard someone fiddle with the door. It opened and then there Tom was.

Pendejo.

And both of them, so expressive with their words and gestures, stood there taking each other in not saying a word.

Tom for a moment thought that perhaps the actual goddess Nike was standing before him and that she looked remarkably like Vicky. She wore a white dress with a sheer material going over one shoulder; her dark hair was swept up in a style he wouldn’t even try to comprehend on how it came together. His eyes finally fell upon the goddess’ clutch she was holding…except he highly doubted goddesses carried clutches with them. Not mythical goddesses anyway.

“My goodness,” Tom breathed, “you look like a vision.”

He had the pleasure of seeing her cheeks turn a pleasant red.

“You look good too,” she replied shyly. “Nice suit.”

“Thank you,” he smiled at her and then suddenly remembered his manners. “Please do come in. We’re almost ready to go.”

She thanked him and walked past him into his room while Tom unabashedly admired her from the back. Her feet were encased in strapped gold heels which only amplified her magnificently shaped tan legs. He also decided that white was a fantastic color on her and he would find a way tonight to let her know she should wear it more often.

Again he had to remember his manners – and that he had a girlfriend who he cared for dearly – and closed the door.

“I am so glad that you could make it,” Tom said as he gave her a hug.

She laughed nervously and they pulled away from each other. “Thank you, Tom. I do have to admit I’m a little surprised you invited me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Tom asked and placed his hands on her bare arms. “You were there for me while I went through the whole process to get this movie. And you still owe me for being wrong about getting the part for Thor.”

Vicky rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know. I just thought you deserved the lead, that’s all.”

He gave her arms a squeeze. “You still lost and this is my way of collecting your debt.”

A knock from the door interrupted any quip Vicky had been ready to say. Tom answered it and ushered his father in.

“Dad, I hope you remember Vicky,” Tom said, reintroducing them.

Vicky held out her hand to the older gentleman. He always reminded her of a shorter, silver haired version of his son. “It’s wonderful to see you again Mr. Hiddleston.”

“Please call me James,” he insisted as he took her hand. “And yes, I do remember, it is hard to forget such a pretty face.”

“Ah, I remember Tom’s charming ways come from you,” Vicky laughed.

Tom’s phone beeped and he quickly read the message while his father and Vicky chatted. “It looks like we’re leaving soon, everyone ready?”

Once they left the room Tom took Vicky’s arm in his and escorted her to the car that was taking them to the premiere.

“I hope it’s cool enough for you gentlemen in your suits,” Vicky said as the car made its way over to the El Capitan.

The vehicle was filled to the brim and everyone had to be friendly with one another.  Tom, however, being the most famous in the group nabbed the front passenger seat. He turned around to face her in the back.

He gave her a smile, “I’ve been meaning to ask why the temperature is the surface of the sun here. And how to you survive the summer here? It’s only May, does it get hotter?”

Vicky gave him a small shrug. “I grew up on the surface of the sun so it doesn’t bother me too much.”

By the time they arrived at the El Capitan Theatre, exited the car, and started to walk the red carpet the sun had gone down enough to make things bearable.

Vicky was nearly overwhelmed by it all. Granted she was not signing autographs or doing interviews but just seeing people that she never thought of being in the same place as, beyond the screen and glossy pages of magazines. She and James stayed well away from the barricades holding the media back. Tom kept stepping away from the gauntlet to check on them and introduce them various people. She was sure it was much to his handlers’ annoyance.

To her surprise at one point Chris Hemsworth came up to them, unbidden by Tom, with his girlfriend. (Tom later corrected her that Elsa was his wife – thank god she didn’t refer to Elsa as Chris girlfriend to her face!) Chris, like everyone else, sang Tom’s praises and told James what a good man and talented actor Tom was. He gladly accepted the admiration on his son’s behalf.

“He seems like a keeper,” Elsa said to Vicky in her beautifully accented voice.

Vicky’s clutch free hand went to smooth out her dress. “Oh, thank you, I think Susannah is of the same mindset too.”

Chris leaned down and while she couldn’t hear what he said to her she was sure was along the line of, “That isn’t Tom’s girlfriend,” or “She’s just Tom’s friend.”

This of course didn’t bother her, not one bit, because she had Callum, who was great and wonderful and very sweet. Nope, didn’t bother her, not one bit.

However this awkward moment was overshadowed later. They were near the end of the red carpet. Tom was a little ahead of them, doing interviews, being his normal charismatic self, when Vicky spotted an older man, large tinted glasses perched upon his nose, wearing nothing overly fancy.

Vicky just about started to fangirl right there. She wanted Tom to come over and introduce them so she could babble incoherent words at him and try to convey her love for his creations and those of his fellows.

‘Oh my god, its Stan Lee,’ she thought as he passed in front of them, oblivious to them.

The words must have been said out loud, or he was a mind reader, because he turned to her, a smile on his face and said, “Why yes I am.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean, well I,” Vicky spluttered. She could feel her face turn red.

“And who might you be?” he asked, a genuine smile appeared under his gray mustache.

A nervous laughed escaped her, “Oh I am no one sir, absolutely no one. I just spent a lot of my youth hold up in my room with many Marvel comics.” Vicky couldn’t believe she said all that without stumbling over her words.

He laughed, “Lovely girl like you spent her time with comics?”

“Yes,” she squeaked but it sounded more like a question. There was so much she wanted to say but somehow couldn’t get it all out.

“Are you sure you didn’t walk out of those comics?” Stan asked, “Because, sugar, you look like a goddess of Asgard.”

She wanted to dispute that. There was no way she looked like anything close. But this was Stan-Freaking-Lee complimenting her. So Vicky thanked him for the compliment and felt her face turn red.

He chatted with her for a few moments before someone ushered him down the line. The smile that appeared on her face from the encounter was still there when they finally made it inside the theatre.

“What are you grinning like that for?” Tom asked, guiding her along with his arm across her lower back.

James answered for her, “I believe it’s from meeting someone by the name of Stan Lee.”

Tom’s grin nearly matched hers, “Oh, so you met him?”

“Yes,” Vicky laughed, “it was awesome. I couldn’t speak properly but Tom! He was awesome.” She nearly squealed. “And he was so sweet!” At this she did squeal a little, to the elder Hiddleston she said, “Sorry, James, but it’s like meeting a figure from myth! I didn’t think it was going to happen!” She looked back to Tom and adopted a faux haughty look. “He thought I looked like a goddess from Asgard.”

Tom laughed and pulled her to his side, “A goddess of Asgard? I have always thought of you more as a Greek goddess.”

She laughed and pushed away from him as they came to their seats. “Whatever, Thomas, save the charm for the cameras buddy.”

 

**_The Supper Club, Hollywood_ **

The place the after-party was at was amazing, as was the food. Vicky did her best not to look like a pig and hang out at the little buffet set up with canapés. She and Tom’s father had been taken around by the actor and were briefly introduced to various people before she and James found a place to sit. Before she sat down Vicky spoke with Kenneth Branagh again. He remembered her from a couple years ago (which amazed her) and wanted to know her honest opinion of this interpretation of Thor. Vicky told him she loved it, that it was much more than just action/comic book movie, that she felt it stayed true to the comics but also made it accessible for those that may not have read them or even knew of Norse mythology. Ken seemed genuinely pleased of her appraisal.

After a nice long rest Tom came to collect them again. James fended him off, deciding to stay seated.

Tom first led Vicky to Chris, Elsa, and Liam. He was surprised to find out that Vicky had already met them (minus Liam). He was even more surprised when Vicky struck up a conversation with Elsa in Spanish.

“You’ve any idea what they’re saying,” Chris said to Tom, the two women had just looked at them and laughed.

Tom shook his head. “They’re going much too fast for me to catch what they’re saying.”

Liam took a sip of his drink and with a smirk said, “I’m pretty sure they’re making fun of the two of you.”

He took her on a grand tour, making sure that everyone received the opportunity to meet her. For all Vicky going on about him being a charmer the truth was that she was too, just in a different way. It would be insufficient to say that she won over those they spoke to with a bat of her eyes or her stunning smile; he just wasn’t sure how to describe it. It reminded him of when they first met, how she seemed to captivate him and draw him in. Maybe everyone was seeing that too tonight. 

Later, as Vicky and Tom watched a performer dangle from the ceiling, he couldn’t help but look at her and smile.

She must have caught him because Vicky turned to look at him. “What are you grinning about?”

He leaned in close to her, arm wrapped around her waist; his lips nearly brushed her ear when he spoke. “I am just so unbelievably happy that you were able to come tonight.”

Her dark eyes twinkled in the lights as she gave him a smile in return and instead of replying to him she went on her toes and gave him a kiss on his cheek. Without a word she turned her attention back the performer.

After they had returned to his hotel and Tom had seen her off in a taxi he thought of all the things he should have told her tonight – and the reasons why he didn’t.

His father waited for him inside the lobby, Tom’s entourage of agents and publicists having already retired for the evening, and they rode up in the elevator quietly, both rather tired.

Before they retreated to their rooms, his father turned to him and said, “I like her.” Leaving Tom in the hallway to turn over his father’s words, for they were few but potent.

 

**_3 May 2011, Tuesday, West Hollywood_ **

Ramses was not happy to be disturbed from the spot he had claimed on Vicky’s back as they slept. Truth be told Vicky wasn’t happy to be disturbed either. However since whoever was at her door was clearly not going away it was time to get up.

The black cat meowed at her as she stretched and got up, almost as if he was asking when she was coming back to bed. Vicky didn’t reply, as she looked around for her housecoat. Ok, so it really wasn’t a housecoat and more of a knee-length cardigan that she wore around the apartment when she was in her PJs.

As she shuffled to the door she called out, “If you’re selling something I’m not buying so leave.”

“Delivery! You need to sign,” the reply came.

“ _Zurramato_ ,” she grumbled and opened the door to be greeted by the sun, both in the literal and metaphorical sense, beaming in her face.

“Good morning!” Tom’s smile was wide and open, his eyes hidden behind his aviators.

“Your American accent is getting better,” Vicky grumbled as she rubbed her eyes.

“What? No ‘Lovely to see you Tom!’ or ‘Care to come in Tom?’”

She gave him a dark look. “You’re lucky I didn’t hit you with my bat.”

He laughed that same silly laugh she’d known for years, before answering, “I was hoping it was horny this morning but I can work with grouchy.” Tom bent down to pick up a pink box and drink carrier.

Vicky motioned for him to come inside, surprised that he was there as she thought he’d be off already to film “Group Hug” (aka The Avengers) – she knew it was starting fairly soon. This meant that his light colored hair would be gone once again. It made her a little sad. As she closed the door she asked, “And if I was horny, _querido_ , what would you have done about it?”

He sat the offerings on her kitchen counter and deposited his leather satchel by his feet. “Oh I think the two of us could have come up with something. I was thinking something involving scarves or handcuffs, at the very least.”

“You kinky bastard,” Vicky deadpanned and slowly made her way into the kitchen, arms crossed. “I hope you brought me something good.”

He looked a little smug as he opened the box and showed her the contents. “I went to that little bakery you like and picked up some pan dulces for you.”

Vicky opened her mouth to correct his pluralizing but her eyes caught sight of the _conchas_. “Those aren’t even in my mouth yet and I am already in a better mood.”

“I thought you might say that,” he grinned. “I also brought coffee.”

Vicky nodded her approval. “You did good Thomas. Let me put on a bra and then we can watch my mood improve as delicious food fills my belly.”

As she left Tom couldn’t help himself, and he doubt any straight man could, take in Vicky’s attire. She wore her blasted grey “housecoat” (he hated it). Thankfully she did not have it wrapped around herself as it let one clearly see her pyjama shorts, that let you see generous amounts of her tan legs, and her tank top that thankfully was opaque enough not to let him see more.

As Vicky left the room though a sleek black shadow entered and made his way to Tom. Quietly he made his way to the kitchen and hopped up on the counter where he stopped in front of Tom and sat down.

“Hello Ramses,” Tom greeted him and scratched him under his chin. The cat sat there, large red eyes unblinking, and stared at him. “Sorry, mate, haven’t meant to be away for so long.”

If cats could roll their eyes he would have sworn Ramses did so in reply.

“I see you have decided to wear your filched jeans from Wallander and your boots. Together,” Vicky said as she came back out of her room.

Tom smirked, he had donned his black jeans and cowboy boots on purpose, and he knew he’d get a reaction out of her. “I have been told that this looks perfectly fine.”

A dark eyebrow rose as she plucked a _concha_ out of the pastry box. “They were lying, and if it was a woman she was probably trying to get into your pants.”

He tried to make it not so obvious that he was avoiding her eyes by handing her a cup of coffee. It was Susannah who had said so. Granted, they were already dating when she did but he didn’t want to let Vicky know she was partially right.

“I am digging that shirt though,” Vicky said after she swallowed her first bite.

The red and blue plaid shirt was a recent addition to his wardrobe. “Thank you.”

She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “So what brings Tom Hiddleston to my apartment at this ungodly hour?”

“It’s almost eleven,” he pointed out. “I should be asking you why you’re here instead of at work.”

Vicky waved off his comment about the time and took another bite of her pastry. “I took yesterday and today off. You didn’t answer my question.”

He stroked his chin. “You’re still cantankerous. I think you need more coffee.” Vicky gave him a look while Ramses batted at Tom’s hand. He looked between his friend and their pet. “I see I am out numbered.” Tom reached down to his satchel and pulled out a large stack of comics. “I am finally returning your comics. The ones you lent me for _Thor_ , I still have the others.”

Vicky took the proffered comics, absently flicking through them. “Gracias. I am surprised though that you just don’t take advantage of Marvel and get the ones you want through them.” She wandered over to her coffee table and placed them there.

“I also have your birthday present,” Tom said when she rejoined him in the kitchen. Ramses had migrated down the floor and twined himself around Tom’s legs as he retrieved her gift. “I know I am a few days late but hopefully you won’t hold that against me.”

It was glamorously wrapped in nothing at all and looked more like a school writing project. Vicky took it and opened the front cover. She studied the cover for a few moments before looking back at him. “This is your script for _Thor_ ,” she said, amazed.

He took a step closer. “I don’t think I could have got the part if it hadn’t been for you. You put up with me for months and believed in me the entire time. I wasn’t sure how exactly to thank you for that so I just wanted to let you know that my entire performance as Loki is dedicated to you, from both films.”

Before he could explain that he had his cast mates sign it for her, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck.

“You’re lucky I am not wearing makeup because it would be totally ruined right now.” Her voice was muffled by his neck. He did not mind at all the bit of wetness he felt.

Tom wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “Darling you’re still lovely without it. You _always_ look lovely.”

Vicky let out a little laugh and pulled enough away to hold his face between her hands. “You are too charming for your own good Thomas. “

He reached up, his fingers ready to take hers when her mobile started to play “Hey Ya!” in the bedroom.

She pulled away from him. “Got to take that, it’s Cal’s ringtone,” Vicky explained.

He couldn’t help but call out after her, “Cal? You’re calling him Cal now?”

“Well at least I can say his pet name in public!” she called back, knowing he would think of her stay at Christmas.

He rolled his eyes and heard her answer the phone. Tom grabbed a pastry and took a seat at her small table. As he munched on it Ramses came to join him and took a seat right in front of him on the table.

“I am pretty sure Vicky would be rather upset to find you on the table,” Tom spoke to the cat. In reply Ramses blinked slowly at him. In a low voice, so only the feline could hear he said, “I am also confident that whatever she is telling that prat, the words that tumble from her lips are sweet and loving and ill deserving of him. Fucking wanker isn’t deserving of her.”

Ramses bumped his head against Tom’s jaw in agreement.

Conspiratorially he said to Ramses, “If you shit in his shoes the next time the tosser is over I will make sure you get a big bowl of cream when I come back.”

After Vicky came back from talking to Callum something shifted. The air felt different between them. It reminded Tom of New Year’s. They still chatted and laughed, shared stories, but Tom felt the shift. He wondered if this time it would be permanent.

Tom was elated to hear a week later as he spoke to Vicky on the phone that Ramses had defecated in her boyfriend’s shoes.

“I couldn’t believe it,” Vicky admitted. “Ramses has never done anything like that before. Pissed Callum off to no end, I think he ruined his shoes.”

Tom couldn’t stop laughing. He laughed so hard he had tears running down his cheeks. She laughed just as hard with him. It would be last time they laughed like that for a long while.


	16. Chapter 16

**_June  2011 to March 2012, from New Mexico to England to California_ **

Tom kissed Susannah’s bare shoulder as she looked over the spines of the books on his nightstand.

“Why do you have so many collections of Pablo Neruda’s?” she asked as she rolled from her side to her back, her dark hair tumbled across the pillow. “I’ve always pinned you down as more of a Shakespeare man.”

Tom ran a hand through his, once again, dark hair before it settled on her stomach. “No, I love Shakespeare,” he smiled, “but there is something about Neruda’s works that I enjoy.”

She rolled her eyes, “Really? I’ve always found him juvenile and contrived.”

He was silent for a beat before removing himself from the bed. “I need to check my diary, make sure we still have time…” he let the sentence die out as it was an excuse to give himself a moment.

“I can’t just drop everything for you Tom,” Vicky said as she paced outside of her work, cell phone to her ear. “If I want to do something like that I have to put in requests weeks in advance!”

“You really can’t just hop out here for a little party?” Tom said on the other line. “Just a night, call in sick to get an extra day.”

“No Tom,” she said firmly. “Look, while you know I am happy where your career is going, where it _will_ go, I don’t have the luxury of doing stuff like that. I have a job that requires me to work Monday through Friday, nine to five – mostly – and I have things to get done. Visual effects just don’t add themselves to movies you know.”

He couldn’t help the chortle that escaped him, nor the words he spoke next: “Vick, who actually pays attention to the digital fog or smoke that’s added to movies anyway? It’s not like it matters.”

There was a beat, a pause, and Tom thought she was going to cave.

“If that’s really how you feel,” she finally answered; her voice was thick and the real reason for her delay in response. Then she was gone, her line dead.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck,” Tom chanted as he punched in her number from memory. His mind going from jovial to panicked too quickly to actually pull her number up via his favorites list. In the end it didn’t matter. She was not taking his calls.

While she refused to pick up his calls it ended up being her calling him the next day.

Tom loved being able to set certain ringtones for his friends because the song that played, letting him know that Vicky was calling, never sounded sweeter.

A greeting was barely out of his mouth before she spoke. “Did you call my work and talk to my boss?” She sounded vexed.

“Not me personally but I may have asked a friend-“

“Who may or may not be Robert Downey Junior?” she finished for him. He could practically picture her glowering at him across the invisible phone lines that connected them.

He contained the laugh that wanted to escape before he answered. “It is a perk when you work with him.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “You know that my boss, he has the biggest crush on Robert Downey Junior, right?”

This time he let the laugh go while rubbing the base of his neck, “I think you may have mentioned it once or twice.”

She let out a frustrated growl. “Now I have been charged to get as many pictures and autographs from this actor I have never met, and let’s admit it I greatly admire too and it’s _your_ entire fault.”

“Well it can’t be that bad if you get to meet him, can it?” Tom asked.

She slipped into Spanish, and he knew she was throwing him a few choice words from what he could catch – the speed of her speech picked up exponentially, always, when she was upset and switched to her second language, or first, he was never really sure.

The thought took voice before he could stop it from slipping out. “How do you even know Spanish? You were raised by white people.” It interrupted her rant.

“What, huh?” she floundered and then recovered. “I’ll have you know my mother was fluent in Spanish, and so did my father, who actually stuck around for a few years. Plus there was the family next door that took pity on me and the lunch ladies at school who seemed to follow me through my educational career to keep me up on my Spanish.” Tom imagined her pacing back and forth as she spoke, her free hand gesturing wildly. “And don’t try to distract me, Hiddleston,” she warned him. “I’m still pissed at you, _we will have words_ I can promise you that.”

An ear to ear smile split his face, and he wanted to do a childish fist pump in victory but refrained. “So you are coming, to visit?”

“Yes, I’m coming. Don’t know what the hell I’ll do out there but I’ll be seeing you. And you owe me, big time.”

The smile had not disappeared from his face. “Oh, you’ll be entertained, I promise. Chris’ place has a pool with a slide.”

“Do the two of you do stupid stunts off it?”

“You’ll have to see,” Tom taunted her.

“Whatever. As long as I can see him and your other co-workers half-naked I’ll be fine,” Vicky confessed, sounding like she was already daydreaming about it.

He let another laugh escape, though with slightly less humor. “You do realize he is married.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t nice to look at, my friend,” was her reply.

Vicky did visit him, and like when he shot _Thor_ , he even slipped her onto set. He was, however, not overly impressed when Callum showed up because it felt like the world around them fell down just a little bit more. Instead of it being Vicky and Tom, it was Vicky and Callum with a guest appearance by Tom.

* * *

 

“I don’t see how you’re still friends with him,” Callum said, taking a sip from his drink.

They were no longer in New Mexico. They were home, and had been, the sun beating down on them as they sat in front of Vicky’s favorite fast food joint. She relished the sun on her skin, not nearly as hot as her childhood home; while Callum kept shifting to make sure he stayed under the shade. He was prone to burning no matter the amount of sunblock he put on.

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” She took a bite of her hamburger as she waited for his reply.

“What I mean is what do you two get from this friendship? It just seems to me that he’s using you.”

The hamburger in her mouth nearly choked her. “You think he’s using me?” she asked once her windpipe was clear.

“Yes,” Callum replied firmly, his light eyes holding hers hard. “I think Tom is just using you, and has been. It’s as if he needs you to stroke his ego every so often, to hear how great he is from someone not a part of his end of the industry.” The Englishman began to look less like an adult and more like a sullen child. As if someone had just taken his favorite toy.

She reached across the little table they shared and caught his hand. Every so often Callum got like this and Vicky just has to remind him of several things. “Cal, look, it’s not like that. I’ve known him since I was still in high school. He wasn’t famous back then. He wasn’t famous for a long time. Tom is one of my best friends. Sure, he can be a jerk sometimes, and so can I, but he’s still my friend.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “You’ve got to understand Cal, he may be my best friend but you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ve got you. I love you, you know that right?”

His eyes drifted from hers before coming back. “I love you too. And I’m sorry, it’s just a little off putting when another man calls you so much, and wants to see you as often as he does.”

Vicky gave him a smile, nice and bright and Callum couldn’t help but think that if Tom was after her, if he did want her, that smile alone might just be enough reason.

After their meal, as they walked to his car, hand in hand, Callum came to the conclusion that if he were to marry anyone it would be someone like Vicky.

‘No,’ he corrected himself. ‘It will be her.’

He knew he’d have to ask her before that fucking actor decided to make a move.

* * *

 

It was part of the appearances he was making, to help promote The Avengers. Granted they were still filming but Marvel, because it was Marvel’s doing not anyone on his end, wanted to treat Tom and put him out there for the public to get more familiar with. So it was off to Cleveland to throw out the first pitch at a baseball game.

Vicky would have probably been ashamed of him. He watched as the ball went to the left and was short of the actual base – all things he had been told might and would happen. Still, if she had seen it Vicky would have heckled him once he was off the field. She would not have patted his back, as several people did, telling him “Good throw” and “Nice pitch”. No, she would have come right up to him and said, “That was downright horrible.”

His friend would have probably even said something to the effect of, “You’re forgiven because I didn’t teach you how to pitch.” And he would counter with saying, “That’s not even how they pitch in softball!” (He didn’t know much about the sports, except that they pitched differently.) And he could hear her reply, “Yeah, but at least you would have made it across home plate!”

But she wasn’t there. He had called, oh he had called, but she was off gallivanting with that Callum prick. Too busy to talk to him, besides sending him an occasional text message. Tom was surprised by how much that actually hurt. He knew she wasn’t doing it to be cruel but he missed the days where she’d readily answer his calls. He missed hearing her voice, seeing her, feeling a comforting hand on his arm when he needed it.

“She’s not going to wait around forever,” Emma had told him once.

Perhaps this was it; Vicky was done waiting for him. (Honestly though, he wasn’t sure what it was she was exactly waiting for.) When he got back to his room, in lieu of calling Vicky, as he was wont to do, he called Susannah, as he knew he should. Instead of razzing him on his poor attempt to pitch she told him that she was sure he did a fine job, as could be expected of someone who knew nothing of the game.

As he lay in bed that night, alone with his thoughts, he realized something. While he loved Susannah she didn’t push him like Vicky did, like she always had. Susannah believed in him, believed that he could do what he wanted. Vicky believed in him as well but pressed him to aim higher. If Tom was shooting for the Moon, Susannah would say that it was a nice goal and he should go for it. Vicky would say, “I _know_ you can make it to the Moon. I think you could make it to Mars if you tried.”

* * *

 

“So this is it,” Susannah said.

Tom nodded, “Yes, I suppose it is.”

They stood near the door of his home. The contents of the two drawers Susannah had in his dresser, along with the few things she had in his wardrobe, had been moved to two suitcases. Anything else she had previously had in his home was already in her car.

Unsure what to do, she gave his arm a squeeze and said, “Goodbye Tom.” Like a gentleman he opened the door for her, even offering to help put her suitcase in the boot of her car, she declined.

And as he closed the door he thought it had to be the most amicable ending to a relationship he ever had. He was sure if anyone saw them that it would look like a friend helping out another friend, due to the lack of dramatics.

The end was nearly as inconspicuous as the actual turning point.

It started with a simple question, months ago. “What would you say is my special talent that no one knew about?” He had been asked in an interview a similar question and he had replied that they should ask his girlfriend. They didn’t (she wasn’t there for the interview) so he asked her.

And after some laughs and brief clarification (which was that he was not talking about the bedroom) she had answered, “You draw really well, fantastic even.”

It had caused him to pause in what he was going to say. Tom might have settled for “decent” but “really well” and “fantastic” was definitely overselling his skills.

Somehow that ill assessment of his art skills opened a can of worms. He kept seeing things that he hadn’t before. They got along well, sure, but things that he felt were important she didn’t, and vice versa.

They started to argue, more than was healthy in a relationship. It was getting dangerously closer to what he remembered of his parents before they divorced.

There was a period of about two weeks where it seemed they had patched things up, that all was well.

And then one night at her place, in her kitchen as they were deciding what to order in, Tom let slip, “I hope our children have as diverse palates as we do.”

Susannah made a strangled noise, “Our children?”

Tom didn’t think anything of her tone. “Yeah, I’d like to expose them to all sorts of cuisine.”

“Who said we’re having children?” she asked. She was incredulous but trying to keep her tone light.

He put the menu he was looking at on the counter. “I just thought one day, after we’re married –”

If her eyebrows had gone any higher when she looked at him they’d have joined her hair line. “Married Tom? When did you decide this?”

“What? I’d like to get married someday.”

She sighed and put down the menu she was looking at. “You of all people should know that I am not ready to get married right now.”

Tom laughed, trying to keep it light as well and took her hands in his. “We don’t have to get married this second. I am not necessarily asking right now either.”

“That’s fine Tom, but I am not ready for children either, I don’t know if I ever will be,” Susannah confessed and pulled her hands away.

“And I am not saying that we should have children right now. I’d like to before I am forty but I can definitely wait.” His sister Sarah had had her first child, a little girl, and it only confirmed to Tom he’d like to have children of his own.

She groaned in frustration and placed a hand on her forehead. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for children.”

There was a pause and Tom let that sink in. It took him a while before he could find his voice. “Is it that you don’t want children, or you don’t want children with _me_?”

Susannah took her hand from her forehead and placed in on her hip. “What I mean is that I think we’re going in two different directions in our life, Tom. I can’t think of children right now, or settling down. You have your career, I have mine. You’re going places I can’t follow. And I don’t want to know I got a part just because I’m _Tom Hiddleston’s_ girlfriend, or wife, or mother of his children. I want to do it on my own.”

They both couldn’t look at each other, their eyes sliding past each other. Neither of them had to say anything. They both knew what it meant.

And thus ended their relationship, without shouting, crying, or insults thrown at each other they’d later regret.

* * *

 

Callum was agitated and Vicky wasn’t sure why. Ever since they arrived for his work’s holiday party little sighs of displeasure had escaped him. It started to irritate her. With a drink in hand she excused herself to take a breather on the balcony of the place that had been rented for the evening.

Vicky kind of expected her boyfriend to come see her after a little while, because she thought he might notice that she was missing. He didn’t come see her and she was out there for so long that she was nearly ready to call a taxi or a friend to come pick her up. She had no qualms about leaving his sorry ass there.

Just as she pulled out her phone to Google for a number to call Callum came out. She was pissed and not going to let him talk her out of it.

“I’m going home,” Vicky announced, and turned her attention back to her phone and pulled up a taxi company’s number.

He came and stopped before her, his six foot, blonde frame in the way of her exit path. “I thought we could stay for a little bit more.”

Callum could swear that her dark eyes burned like charcoals when she looked up him.

“I didn’t say I was going home with _you_.” Vicky’s voice was low and dark.

The Brit felt his metaphorical hackles rise in response, “ _With whom then?_ ”

She tapped the call button on her phone and put it up to her ear. “With me, myself and I, that’s fucking who. I don’t know what your problem is tonight but I’m done putting up with it.”

Honestly, Callum was not sure what his problem was. Perhaps that is why he ended up blurting, “I just don’t understand why you had to wear that outfit tonight.”

The phone came away from her ear and she hit the end button. “Excuse me?” He didn’t really think it was possible to look pissed off and confused at the same time, Vicky proved him wrong.

Callum’s mouth decided it was independent from his brain and continued, “I mean truly, look at you.”

Her combination look intensified and she was rendered speechless for a few moments. Despite Callum’s implication she was not walking around nude or anywhere close to it. She was wearing a burgundy dress; it was actually a bridesmaid’s dress from a wedding nearly two years ago that she finally found a use for. It was modest even, capped sleeves, went down to her knees, square neckline. Her heels were high, but they were just unadorned black leather heels. Hell, she even had on a black bolero with three-quarter length sleeves because it was cold.

Vicky eventually found her voice and nearly ground out with her teeth, “I don’t know what the hell _your problem_ is tonight but you don’t get to fucking talk to me until you work it out.”

And she was gone before he could convince his mouth to work with his brain to say something civilized.

He was on her doorstep the next day, around ten in the morning because he had learned by now that Vicky was one of two things in the morning: grumpy or a little horny. Callum decided to err on the side of caution and assume she would probably be grumpy that morning.

As soon as she let him in everything came out of his traitorous mouth. He set the record straight that her dress was not the problem that there was no problem with her clothing, never has been. The problem was him.

There was a great deal on his mind of late. Like the perfect time to ask her, would she say yes? How was she even with him still? Was it too soon? Would she like it? And why was all of it so hard?

“What are you talking about?” Vicky asked, confused. “You skipped a part.”

It was a good of time as ever, he felt. So he got down on one knee, like he had seen it done in movies. “I want to marry you and would like to know if you’d like to marry me too.” He didn’t pull out the ring; it was back at his place.

Her mouth dropped open while the questions from his outburst all click together. Vicky couldn’t respond right away. She was completely unprepared and blindsided by his question. First off, weren’t couples supposed to talk about things like that? Weren’t they supposed to get to a certain point in their relationship and not feel weird when one says, “You know when we’re married…” They had only talked about it a few times, mostly what felt like in passing to her.

Something in her wanted to tell him no. No, not yet, I love you but I’m not quite ready. Yet there was a part of her, a part that was dominant at that time, that couldn’t believe someone was actually asking her. She may never get asked again if she didn’t say yes.

Not the best logic to go on, probably the worst, but her reply to him was, “Yes, of course.” Her smile was big and she felt like her stomach was doing flips.

Later that night, after he actually gave her the ring, she called her parents. Allen answered the phone with a cheerful, “Hello Fred! What are you up to?” It felt nice hearing her father’s nickname for her.

“Not much, but can you get Laura on the phone?” Once Laura and Allen were on the line she just let them have it. “Callum asked me to marry him.”

When her parents finally calmed down her mother asked her, “Have you told Tom?”

Vicky told her no, that it only just happened and she’d tell him soon. She found that telling Tom was the last thing she wanted to do.

* * *

 

It was late – correction _early_ – when her phone started to ring. Bleary eyed she looked at the red numbers on her alarm clock and double checked her phone, before answering, to be sure.

Three in the fucking morning, who would call that early? Taking a good look at her phone again her question was answered.

“ _Cabrón_ , you betting have a good reason for calling at three in the morning,” Vicky answered. Feeling incredibly lazy she rolled onto her side and placed her phone on her pillow-free ear so she wouldn’t have to hold it.

“I think you mean it’s six in the morning,” Tom countered.

She didn’t even have the energy to laugh at that. “I know math is not your strong suit, Thomas, but really, you have an iPhone. There is a nifty little app that allows you to see what time it is anywhere in the world. If you looked at Los Angeles you’d clearly see it says it’s too early for this shit.”

Vicky wasn’t sure if Tom was checking the app or if she fell asleep again because there was a long pause. Finally his deep voice travelled through her speaker. “Bollocks. I’m sorry, Nike.”

Something in his tone made her wake up just a little bit more. “Tom, what is it? What is wrong?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “How do you know something is wrong? How do you do that?”

She took the phone back in her hand and sat up. “Know that there’s something wrong? I may be half asleep but I can still piece things together. Now, are you going to tell me so I can stop panicking internally?”

“No need to panic. I just wanted…what I mean to say is, I wish you were here.” There was something in his voice, some slight vulnerability that she normally didn’t hear.

Her hand rubbed her face, travelled down her neck and then slipped under the v-neck of her shirt to settle over her heart, where she could feel it begin to race. “What’s wrong, Tom? What’s happened?”

The quaver in her voice let him know that he did nothing to calm her. “I, uh, I broke up with Susannah.”

Vicky’s nerves calmed just a bit, but she kept her hand over her heart. “What? How, I mean, when? What happened?”

Tom rubbed his neck. “Things between us hadn’t been all that great recently and we realized our lives were heading in different directions. She came and got what items she had left at my place and then that was the end of it. No fighting, no shouting or name calling. We spoke our peace and decided that we should go on, without each other. Piece of piss.”

“Piece of piss…really Thomas I don’t think that’s the best term to use, but let’s go with it,” Vicky sighed and withdrew her hand from where it had been resting. “Are you ok?”

“I think so. I just needed to hear your voice.” She was a little surprised when he let out a frustrated growl. “Why couldn’t you move to London? There are plenty of VFX houses here. I’m sure any number of them would be happy to hire you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she laughed. “Why not move to LA? I’m sure there are plenty of jobs for an actor out here. Any director would love to hire you.”

Tom laughed along with her, “Touché. Any chance you could pop over here for a quick visit?”

“I’d love to, but there is this thing call my job and my new boss, who if you called him would not let me off for a couple of days with a phone call from Bob.” She smiled and fell back on to her bed. “We could always try Skype.”

He did _not_ want to Skype with her. “Right, I think we both know that between your technical genius and my tech savvy skills that we have not been able to make that work properly for more than a few minutes.”

Despite it being unbearably early Vicky talked with Tom. He told her everything that had happened, what had led them to ending their relationship. She knew he was keeping certain details to himself, as was his right. She didn’t need to know the nitty-gritty. And then they just talked, about anything, about everything, almost everything.

It was just before 5am when there was a lull in their conversation. Vicky was getting dressed; she had put him on speaker phone, when he let out a laugh.

“What are you embarrassed about?” she asked and pulled on a pair of jeans.

“I’m not embarrassed about anything,” Tom replied.

“Liar,” she called him out. “It may not have been anything you said, maybe you were thinking it, but you’re embarrassed about something.”

As she buttoned up a shirt he asked, “And how would you know I was embarrassed about something?”

“Your laugh,” she simply responded and moved to her dresser.

“My laugh?” Despite himself he couldn’t help but chuckle.

A pair of socks in hand she sat down on her bed, next to the nightstand that had the phone on it. “Yes your laugh. You go ‘hahaha’ like a normal person when you’re embarrassed.”

“I do?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Your secret talent is to know if I am embarrassed or not?”

Vicky leaned over from where she was sitting and fished for her shoes under her bed. “Among many others,” she said with a grunt as she nearly tipped herself off the bed.

“What is my secret talent?”

She slipped on her shoes and then picked up her phone, switching it off from speaker mode. Her hand cradled it against her ear. “I am glad you asked me an easy question.”

Tom laughed, “No, really, tell me.”

“What, besides the ability to wake me up extremely early?” She lay back on her bed. “I would have to say it’s your ability to write.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate, my dear.”

“All I am is saying is that, God forbid it, if this whole acting thing didn’t work out for you, you could have had a very good career as a writer. Novels, scripts, essays, whatever you wanted. You write like you talk and you’re so articulate it’s just unfair to those that have a trouble pulling the words from their head to paper.” Her hand, like earlier, went to settle over her heart as she spoke this time without thought. “I have no doubt that if you decided to write that teachers, professors and the like would be recommending your works along alongside Shakespeare’s.”

“My goodness, Vicky, you sure do know how to stoke a man’s ego,” Tom replied.

Even though he was not there, she waved him off as if he was in her room. “Don’t worry; I also know how to bring your giant movie star head down to earth.”

“If you’re threatening me with exposing me with the dancing I did in Cymbeline, again, I will have you know it won’t work.”

Vicky let out an evil cackle, one that could rival Maleficent herself. “Oh, I know that. I have something far better.”

He did not like sound of that. “What do you mean?” he slowly asked.

She laughed again, though this time it sounded like more like an evil giggle (he never thought of giggles as evil until now). “Your mother may or may not have shared some rather hilarious and adorable home videos of you putting on plays and acting out last time I saw her. I think there is this wonderful little clip of you on your trip to Canada…”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Tom’s voice dropped, his tone betraying some of his horror.

“Thomas, I’ve seen the forums, I’ve trawled through Tumblr, trust me. I have plenty of places and outlets to embarrass you if your head gets too big.”

“You hold some powerful leverage there, Nike.”

With a shrug she said, “What are friends for, right?”

“Right, friends,” Tom replied, hoping his tone didn’t betray him.

When they finally ended their conversation, right before she left for work, Vicky realized she had not told Tom that she was engaged. Not that it would have been appropriate, considering he had called to talk about his own relationship that had recently ended.

* * *

 

He should really be in a better mood. His mates were laughing and joking all around him. Tom should be laughing with them. Really, it was a time to celebrate. John and Amy were going to be parents and his cousin Matthew had just phoned to let him know he was getting married. So he should be excited, everyone was happy and he should be too.

Except he wasn’t and he couldn’t find it in himself to be entirely happy. Sure he offered congratulatory words and hugs to John when they arrived at the pub, and he had told his cousin he was “excited beyond words” for him and his fiancée.

There was just one little rain cloud hovering over his head and Tom just couldn’t shake it.

Vicky was engaged. She had been for some time, apparently, and he had only found out when he had spoken to her earlier in the day so they could laugh over their friends’ pending bundle of joy. She had casually dropped it in the middle of their conversation, like it was no big deal, as if she got married every day.

Sure, he may have told her congratulations and asked if she had a date planned.

“Callum is, I mean, we’re hoping to pick a date by the end of the year. Sorry I don’t have a firmer date.”

Tom brushed it off, “Don’t worry about it. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, I’ll make time for it. Promise.”

He knew she could tell something was off, because he lied just about as well as a lion could pretend it was a sheep, but Vicky didn’t say anything.

And not ten minutes after his phone call with Vicky ended did he receive a call from _Callum_ asking Tom if he’d be one of his groomsmen. Tom of course said he would, it would be his pleasure.

Now all Tom could picture every time he closed his eyes was Vicky walking down the aisle, smiling, looking gorgeous and incandescently happy and when she stopped and turned to look at her groom it wasn’t him but _Callum_. (The man’s name was a veritable curse word in his mind.) He didn’t realize until she told him how much he wanted to be the one at the end of the aisle waiting for her.

Nothing he could bloody fucking do about it now.

“What has you so glum?” John asked as clapped Tom’s shoulder and took a seat next to him. “Aren’t you happy I’ll be having a little spawn running around soon?”

Tom laughed and took a swig of his drink. “Yeah, sorry, just a lot on my mind and everything. I don’t mean to be as sick as a parrot. If you want me to go I’d understand.”

“Nah, mate, tell me what’s on your mind,” John encouraged him.

“You know Vicky’s getting married, right?”

John nodded his head slowly. “She’s asked Amy to be her Matron of Honor.”

Tom groaned, “Callum has asked me to one of his groomsmen.”

“You don’t want to be a groomsman?” John asked, easily reading what Tom wasn’t saying.

“I don’t want him to be the groom,” Tom quickly replied, not daring to look at his friend.

John’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline before he recovered. “I see and who do you think should be the groom? No one or do you have someone else in mind?”

Tom side eyed John but didn’t say anything. John just rolled his eyes. “Look, mate, I’ll tell you what Amy told me ages ago: you’re an arse for not seeing what was in front of you for years and it’s your own fault.”

They both tended to their drinks before Tom replied. “She really said that?”

John smirked, “She may have used more colorful language and there was quite a bit of hand gesturing.” His friend waved his own hands around in demonstration.

Tom raised an eyebrow, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Did she tell you this when Vicky got engaged?”

John shook his head, “When we were in Hawaii, when we were _all_ in Hawaii.”

Tom turned his head sharply to look John in the eyes; his hand gripped his drink tightly. “That was ages ago, ages!”

“I know. She was upset you didn’t declare your ‘undying love’ for Vicky back then.” John actually used air quotes.

“Bloody hell, have I really been a fool for that long?” Tom removed his hand from his drink. With his elbows on the table he rested his forehead on the heel of his hands.

“I’d say you’ve been a fool for much longer.” John wanted to add that he thought Tom and Vicky were both fools but apparently she must have moved on, marrying this other guy. He had tried to talk to his friend after the Hawaii trip but Tom thought he was joking.

After they sat in a comfortable silence for few moments John asked, “So what are you going to do?”

Tom, who had since removed his head from his hands and crossed his arms in front of him, shrugged, “I don’t know. I guess I’m going to be in her fucking wedding.”


	17. Chapter 17

**_7 April 2012, Saturday, Los Angeles_ **

Tom had flown out with his publicist, Luke, several days before the  _Avengers_ premiere in Los Angeles. There were a few meetings and schmoozing of executives leading up to the premiere. Something that was becoming far more frequent as his popularity grew.

However, today was not one of those days.

Today was Tom’s free day. He had bargained and pleaded to have this day free. He wasn’t even going to use the car service.

Today was his day to spend with Vicky. She had something planned and would not divulge the details of what they would be doing to him. It didn’t matter to him what they did. She could tell him that they’d be rolling around in a gigantic mud puddle (which actually sounded like loads of fun) because what was important was the fact that it was just the two of them. Like old times, going off on their own little adventure no one else would partake in.

Best part, in Tom’s opinion, was that Vicky would have no one else vying for her attention.

While Tom was a terrible liar when he spoke to others, save for a few occasions, he was quite capable of lying to himself. The up and coming actor had taken a drink from Lethe River and seemed to have forgotten that his best friend was engaged to another man. It was a feat psychologists would have congratulated him for, if they were the type of people to do so.

At a knock on his door Tom roused himself from the chair he had been sitting in to open the door to find his Nike standing before him. He was so relieved and delighted to see her that he forgot to greet her.

“Hello Thomas,” she grinned cheekily at him. “Are you going to stand there and stare or…” Vicky let the sentence die, allowing him to finish it the way he pleased.

He blinked a few times before he flashed her one of his grins. “Yes, come in. Let me grab my wallet and then we can go.” Tom stepped aside to let her pass, taking a moment to admire her rear before closing the door. It looked exceptionally nice today encased in a pair of jean shorts that went to her knees.

“Looks a bit nicer than the room they gave your for  _Thor_ ,” Vicky commented as she looked around while Tom ducked into the bedroom to get his things.

He laughed as he put on his sunglasses when he rejoined her. “I suppose you get an upgrade for taking on six heroes and commanding an army.”

Vicky’s eyes went wide. “Don’t spoil things for me! I know more than enough already. I’d still like to be surprised when I see it!”

“I won’t spoil things for you,” Tom promised and took her hand, leading her out of his room. Before the door closed all the way Vicky had him double check to make sure he had his key card. He did and then they were off.

He would have introduced Vicky to Luke but the man was taking this as his day off too and visiting with some friends. As they were leaving, Hemsworth was checking in. They stopped and chatted with him in the lobby for a few minutes before parting ways. Chris extracted a promise to have them do something with him the next day.

Once they were in Vicky’s car, and she fiddled with her iPhone to select a playlist, they were off.

“Still suffering from jetlag, Freckles?” Vicky asked once they were on the freeway.

“I suppose so,” Tom replied. He had reclined his seat and closed his eyes, long fingers were folded together over his stomach. “I am also making an attempt to block out the country music that keeps popping up. I didn’t expect that from you, Vicky.”

“Shut up,” she retorted with a laugh. “You know you like it. If you need to, take a nap. I’ll wake you when we get there. No need to worry that I’ll leave you in the car.”

He hummed in reply. “You never actually said where we’re going.”

Vicky grinned, he could tell by her voice. “It’s a surprise. Something we haven’t done before. So take a nap, I promise I won’t get us killed.”

Tom hummed in reply again and settled down further into his seat.

He woke up at the sound of a car window being lowered.

“Hi, how are you today?” A girl said in greeting. Tom turned his head to the left and blinked at her, his eyes adjusting.

“Great and how are you?” Vicky said brightly.

The girl laughed and Tom noted she was wearing an orange safety vest, white hat shading her eyes. “Good so far.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Vicky gave her some money for parking and was handed a yellow slip to place on the dashboard, indicating that they had paid, and a flyer. The flyer was absentmindedly passed on to him. It read “20th Annual Riverside Air Show” in bold letters, surrounded by airplanes from different eras with a few classic cars on the bottom.

An air show, it was something they had never gone and seen together. He couldn’t help the upward tilt of his lips. She was clever woman.

Vicky followed a stream of vehicles down a street where a few more workers in orange reflective vests were keeping the flow of cars slow and steady, showing them where to park. Once the car was parked Tom got out and stretched, the buzz of an airplane performing tricks in the background.

“Oh, good lord Thomas,” Vicky nearly groaned in exasperation.

Tom brought his arms down to his sides from where he was stretching them over his head. “What?” he asked with a chuckle.

A tanned arm of hers waved at him. “Did you really have to wear that shirt?”

He looked down at his shirt. It was a v-neck shirt, light blue-grey in color and made out of a light material. “I do not see your objection.”

Vicky placed a hand on her hip that the jutted out to the side and gave him a steady look. “It’s see through, Tom. You are flashing everyone with your man-boobs.”

“I am not,” he defended.

She rolled her eyes. “At least put your jacket back on. I will not put up with defending your honor when the women try to flirt with you.”

Tom shook his head in derision but pulled his leather jacket out from her car. He had slipped it off before he got out thinking that perhaps the clouds would leave and he’d get a bit of sun. Once he was properly covered to her liking, and he was glad to indulge her, he walked up to her and slung an arm around her shoulders.

“I should think that my perfectly content expression at having you at my side would be enough of a deterrent so as to ward off any unwanted attention, and save you the task of ‘defending my honor,’” Tom grinned down at her as he pulled her curvy body next to his. His mind briefly flashed to what he’d like to do to that curvy body but he quickly pulled his thoughts away from there.

Her arm wrapped around his back and she gave him one of her Cheshire cat grins. “Well, what can I say? I am a delight to be around.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her false arrogance as they started to walk. Vicky led the way as he had no idea where the entrance was for the air show. He leaned down and said softly into her ear, “Besides why would I want to talk to another woman here when I have a veritable goddess at my side?” Tom straightened back up. “I should be the one worried about a legion of admirers flocking to you. I have to admit that I am not in a sharing mood today.”

Her arm shifted on his back, and he briefly feared he may have pushed at the line too hard. “Tom,” her voice sounded small, “you can’t say…” He was scared she’d pull away from him so he tightened his grasp around her ever so slightly. Her dark eyes looked up at him and whatever she was going to finish saying fell was replaced with, “I am not the movie star here, mister. No one cares about little ol’ me.”

Before his mind could tell his lips to stop he said, “On the contrary. I care a great deal about you, love.”

There was bit of awkwardness between them for a moment or two. Until Vicky tripped over a crack on the path they were walking. Tom caught her before her pride could be damaged. They both laughed and it seemed that they just needed to settle back into how they were before Tom’s tongue got away from him.

* * *

 

The day spent with Vicky at the air show was tremendous. It really was just the two of them in their own little world. Tom either steadfastly held her hand in his or had an arm wrapped around her. When she smiled it seemed as if she would always turn to him to make sure he saw it. As if every one, no matter the cause, was just for him.

There were a few times were he was just so blissfully happy and most, if not all, were connected to Vicky. That Christmas ( _that_   _Christmas_ ), the trip in Hawaii, the months they shared her flat together, and now this day. This day would definitely be among them.

If there was some way to bottle what he felt, his heart beating faster every time their eyes met, the way her skin felt beneath his finger tips when he’d brush them against her, how right it felt to have her with him, next to him, that he could do anything as long as she was by his side. If he could package that he would and horde it away in hopes of making it last forever.

The skies may have been overcast but he felt as if the sun was shining just on them.

Truly, it was a magnificent day. They watched the air aerobatics and stunts. They walked through planes from the beginning of the commercial flight age to World War II, oohed and ahhed over cars from America’s muscle car era. Conversation was never lacking between the two and flowed quite freely. Tom and Vicky also indulged in their sweet tooth many times over – Dippin’ Dots ice cream was their weakness for the day.

They left before the event was over, hand in hand yet again.

“I hope you had fun,” Vicky said as she swung their joined hands back and forth, gently.

“I had an extraordinary time,” he replied and gave her hand a squeeze.

Vicky beamed up at him, “Good. I’m glad. My dad used to take us as kids to these things and when I heard this one was going to happen I thought we’d give it a go.”

He was briefly distracted by the sound of a stunt plane performing behind them. They both stopped to watch it go up, and up, and up before it started to fall, looking like a leaf caught on the wind.

“We should take our kids to these,” Vicky said.

And Tom knew what she meant, because he knew her and could often read between the lines when she spouted random thoughts like that.

She meant it like when Sarah and her best friend were teenagers, Sarah said she’d marry Brad Pitt one day; her friend would marry Ralph Fiennes. They’d get married on the same day and their families would do everything together. That is how Vicky meant it, except without the delusion part.

However that did not stop Tom from imagining a pair of dark haired children running around them, chattering on about the amazing aerobatics they had just witnessed.

“We will,” Tom promised.

* * *

 

Once they made it back to his hotel – after a detour for food and a few movies (they couldn’t decide between  _The Hunger Games_  or  _Wrath of the Titans_ , so they saw both) – they were tired. Tom was just tired in general, still adjusting to the time zone difference. Vicky was tired from going on about the glaring inaccuracy that was  _Wrath of the Titans_  and her veritable swooning over Sam Worthington. (“I mean, really Tom, how can anyone resist that curly hair and blue eyes combo? Even if he does have chicken legs.”)

“I am so tired now,” Vicky grumbled as they awkwardly walked down the hall to his room.

From behind him Vicky had her arms wrapped around his middle, forehead resting on his back. Tom held her arms in place with his hands firmly curled around her forearms while they walked in sync. This caused them to walk a bit like a four-legged Frankenstein.

“You’re tired, I’m tired, let’s take a nap,” Tom chuckled.

“That sounds like a great idea.” There was no enthusiasm in her voice but from past experience he knew otherwise.

Once inside his room they started to shuck their belongings left and right. Shoes were left by the door. Vicky’s purse went on a side table. Tom’s jacket was draped over a chair. Sunglasses were left on this surface, trinkets and bobbles from the day were left on that surface. Slowly the two claimed the room as their own.

Tom went to the mini-bar and pulled out a water bottle and unscrewed the top. “Nike would you like something to drink?” he asked as he turned around…and promptly ran into Vicky.

Water doused her from her neck down. “I’m sorry, I was just coming to ask you for a bottle!” she apologized.

He franticly looked around for something to soak the water up. “No, you don’t have to apologize. I’m the cad, I should have been more careful.”

Vicky looked down at her wet clothes, fatigue settled around her eyes, and she let out a pathetic whimper. “I am too tired for this. I have some extra clothes in my trunk but I don’t want to go down and get them.”

She sounded very much like a child complaining about being told to clean their room. Tom couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “How about I loan you some of mine until yours dry off?” It seemed like a reasonable and logical suggestion to him.

Her dark brown eyes lit up at that. “Really? You’d be a life saver,  _queirdo._ ”

His invisible plumage puffed up in delight at hearing her say that. Tom excused himself as he briefly stepped into the bedroom to grab a few items. He returned with a green v-neck shirt and a pair of his jeans – which he knew would be ridiculously long on her but besides his pants he didn’t have any other bottoms for her to wear.

He held his clothes out to her, his body bent low with his arms held up and said, “Please accept your acolyte’s humble offerings, Nike.”

She rolled her eyes at his theatrics as she took his clothes. He was only mildly surprised when she started to change right in front of him. Not that he hadn’t seen her in her under things before, in fact he had seen her in nothing (with her body decorated with the dark circles his mouth left behind).

It had been years, though, since he had seen her in nearly next to nothing. Tom cared for and appreciated Vicky for more than her looks and the shape of her body; he had to admit though that her body was a great perk.

She wasn’t model thin, her chest wasn’t flat and her natural beauty had not been altered. Not that there wasn’t anything wrong with those women that were thin or had smaller breasts or had plastic surgery done. He supposed that if Vicky had any of those qualities it wouldn’t matter to him. Tom just…he liked her the way she was. Vicky was curvy, like Marilyn Monroe. Not the modern concept of Marilyn Monroe: big tits and rounded derrière only. Yes, she did have those but she had substance to her too. Like the real Marilyn did. Just curves, glorious and wonderful curves that fit her frame perfectly, dark hair he’d love to tangle his fingers through and smooth, soft brown skin that instantly made him appear ten shades paler when she was next to him.

His fingers twitched at his sides as he watched her shed her jeans. She flicked them to the side with a sock clad foot and they landed under the chair where his jacket rested. As she took her top off Tom admired her ass. She wore black cotton knickers that looked like very small shorts on her. Tom used to know the proper term for the cut, at that moment though his brain was reluctant to look it up as it was pleasantly distracted.

When he was finally able to tear his eyes from arse and thoughts of removing the cotton fabric (with his teeth) he caught a glimpse of her breasts encased in a very innocent looking white bra before she slipped on his green shirt. He had to admit that it looked far better on her than it ever did on him. She picked up his jeans and handed them back to him.

“I plan on hogging your bed and thought these might cramp my style,” she said, giving him that bloody Cheshire cat grin. And honestly he wasn’t sure if the grin was for the announcement of her intentions on monopolizing his bed or that she was refusing his jeans so she could parade around in her knickers and his t-shirt.

As she sauntered into his bedroom he briefly entertained the thought of seducing her. Alas, a small, but very smart part of his brain said that would be a horrible idea. It took a few moments to convince the rest of his mind but eventually it won.

Just in case though he discarded his own jeans, socks too, if things did lean that way. Despite his swiftness he still took too long because when he entered the room Vicky was curled up under the bedding, fast asleep.

His boyish excitement at seeing her in her undergarments, and the brief moment he entertained sex with Vicky completely left him when he saw her. She looked far too peaceful for him to disturb her with his unwanted romantic feelings.

Tom slipped in under the bedding, wary of getting too close to her. It didn’t matter how cautious he thought to be as Vicky briefly cracked open one eye before scooting over to him and snuggling into his side.

 

**_8 April 2012, Sunday, Los Angeles_ **

Weight shifting on the bed is what awoke Vicky. She saw Tom getting out and rolled her eyes with a murmured, “Humph.”

“Are you awake?” Tom asked as he stretched his arms above his head.

“No, only Hoggle here,” she grumbled.

He chuckled, “Right, I am going for a run. Perhaps when I come back Hoggle will have convinced the Goblin King to return Vicky.”

Vicky peered at the clock she spied on Tom’s side of the bed. The weird haze left on her contacts from sleeping in them distorted the numbers. It didn’t matter. The sun wasn’t up, so Vicky wasn’t up. “We’ll see,” she replied, not making any promises.

Tom laughed again and she only responded by pulling the comforter up over her head.

When she woke again it was to a rather annoying knocking sound, her only response was to groan and glare at the direction it was coming from. It was being rather rude.

She then heard metal scrape against metal and a bit to her surprise Tom came out of a wall, wait no, it was a door. He had come out of the bathroom; no doubt it was the shower curtain she had heard moments before, his hair wet and soap suds still clung to his body. While her face held no emotion as she peered at him, inside Vicky was greedily soaking up the sight before her.

Tom, wet Tom, smiled sheepishly at her as he adjusted a towel around his lower half. “Sorry, love, didn’t think they’d get here that quick.” He went and answered the door, letting someone in briefly and came back into the bedroom when they were gone. “I ordered up some breakfast. You can go back to sleep if you want but if you don’t, go on and start without me.”

She just nodded and watched him return to the bathroom. After lying in bed for a moment or two she heard the shower kick back on. Briefly she stretched out like a starfish on the bed and wiggled her toes and fingers. Once satisfied her limbs were functioning she tossed back the covers rather dramatically and got out the bed. She adjusted the bra she still wore, as it had shifted in her sleep. It hadn’t been her plan to sleep in her bra, it hadn’t been her plan to spend the night but she wasn’t upset that she did.

She walked slowly out to the table and looked at the array of food that Tom had ordered. Either he was very hungry when he called room service or he wasn’t sure what to eat. She grabbed one of the empty plates and a fork and started to pile her dish with fruits. She nicked a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk and a few pieces of toast. Just as Vicky was going to sit down a phone went off.

It wasn’t any ring tone she had so she went into the bedroom. “Tom, you’re phone is going off.” The shower was no longer running, she could only assume he was out and drying himself.

“I’ll be out in a mo’. Would you mind answering it for me though?”

Vicky didn’t reply to him, instead grabbing his phone off the nightstand before it went to voicemail. “Loki, God of Chaos and Mischief’s phone,” she answered, “this is the Goddess Nike speaking.”

There was a pause before a deep timbre voice answered. “I’m sorry,” he sounded unsure, “I was looking for Tom.”

Vicky grinned when she recognized the voice. “Morning Chris,” she did a quick peek at the time on the phone. Yes, still morning. “This is Vicky, Tom’s friend.”

His smile could practically be heard through the speaker. “Yes, Vicky! Good morning. I was hoping to catch Tom before he left on his run.”

“Oh, sorry, he’s already been and come back.” Tom opened the bathroom door, padding out wearing his underpants and a shirt only. His hair was still damp but had been combed back. He raised an eyebrow at her, silently asking who was on the phone. “Did you need to speak with him, Chris?”

“Uh, if he’s available to talk,” the Aussie replied.

Vicky smiled at Tom as she walked up to him. “I think he might be. Here he is Chris.” She handed the phone off to Tom, who took it with a whispered thank you before greeting his friend. She left the room to give him some privacy. She did not notice Tom’s eyes on her as she left.

* * *

 

“The butt of the knife hit me square between my eyes,” Chris said, rubbing at the space between his eyebrows with a finger. “Mongrel would have taken me out if he’d thrown the knife properly.”

Vicky’s laugh bubbled out of her as Tom shook his head. He had heard the story once before, if he remembered right, and was glad Liam’s aim had not been true.

Chris had been regaling Tom and Vicky with a tale about his younger brother using genuine throwing knives to throw at him (courtesy of a grandparent), when they were younger, as they ate dinner together.

“It seems to me a wonder that you two survived your childhood,” Vicky grinned as she took a sip of her wine.

Chris chuckled, “It wasn’t that bad. We got better when we got older.”

“Glad to hear it, I’d hate to be on guard for any throwing knives that’d miss you and come this way.” She made as to look around. As the boys laughed she leaned over to Tom and said, “Excuse me for just a moment.”

Tom nodded and watched her walk away. Chris cleared his throat once she was out of hearing range and Tom looked over at him. He raised an eyebrow, “Yes?”

Chris raised his own eyebrow in return and leaned toward his friend. “So she answered your phone this morning.”

“Right.”

“And it wasn’t a one night thing, I am assuming.”

“We didn’t sleep together, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Tom replied, keeping his expression even.

The blond sat back in his chair, “Really?”

“Yes, really, don’t sound so surprised. Trust me, I would love to take her to bed again, I just don’t see it happening anytime soon.” Tom did not realize what he had said until he was done speaking. Slowly he placed a long fingered hand over his face.

Chris did not miss what he had said, at all, naturally. “Wait, you’ve slept with her before? How long ago? Before or after you brought her to set with that deadhead?”

“I did not invite that fucking wanker,” Tom started but stopped himself. “It was before,  _long_ before then.”

His friend waited for him to continue before rolling his eyes. “What did you do? Because mate, I’ve seen that look before, on myself, when I first met Elsa, and you’ve been carrying it for a long time.”

“I asked if we could just be friends and have been kicking myself since,” Tom admitted.

“What have you been kicking yourself for?” Vicky asked and surprised them both.

Tom smiled at her, thinking quickly he replied, “That I didn’t get the chicken for dinner.”

Vicky gave him a critical eye before she replied “You’re a shit liar.”

Both Tom and Chris cracked up laughing as she sat down. “You’ve never called me out before!”

Vicky laughed with them. “Yeah because usually when you do lie it’s for my benefit. Like that time at that record store with those two girls.”

It was an old memory and it took Tom a moment to recall it. “That was ages ago, how the hell do you still remember that?”

Vicky shrugged and smiled. “I just remember thinking later that I couldn’t believe those girls bought your story.”

“You’re speaking in code again,” Chris said. The two had slipped into this way of talking a few times that night, where thoughts were shared between them without revealing the exact nature of them to others.

Vicky then proceeded to tell Chris about her and Tom’s last minute Christmas shopping adventure they had nearly ten years ago.

* * *

 

When the three arrived back at the hotel Chris bid them goodnight while Vicky and Tom loitered in the lobby.

“I better go,” Vicky sighed.

Tom fingered the collar of her shirt – well his shirt; she’d worn his green shirt all day – where it lay near her collarbone, “If you insist, love.”

“Well I’d be happy to spend more time with you but I have to work tomorrow, unfortunately.” Her big brown eyes caught his as she looked up at him. “There is something, important – personal I want to talk to you about and I’ve only just worked up the courage to even bring the subject up.”

His heart seized for just a moment. As selfish as it might have seemed he had been secretly praying that she called off her engagement, while simultaneously denying that she was going to marry another man. Blue eyes darted to her left hand. By all that was holy there was no ring there.

Tom took her left hand in both of his and brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers. She giggled a little as his goatee tickled her hand. “Vicky, whatever you have to tell me, don’t feel as if you need to rush it. Take your time. I will be here to listen and offer any support that you may need.”

He watched as the relief flooded her face, at having his support, his shoulder to lean on. “Thank you, Thomas. I have to stay late at work tomorrow but if somehow your schedule allows it can we get together on Tuesday?”

Her hand was still in his. “Yes, Tuesday. I have to deal with the press earlier in the day but I believe my night is free.” Or he’d make it free.  “And you keep Wednesday night open too. I want…I want you to come with me to the premiere. We can hammer out the details later.” He let go of her hand and pulled out his wallet. “Here is my extra room key. Just come on up, if I’m not there let yourself in.”

Vicky nodded, surprised by him wanting her at the premiere, and kissed him on the cheek. “Again, thank you. I’ll see you then.”

They said their goodbyes. There was a spring in Tom’s step all the way back to his room.

 

**_10 April 2012, Tuesday, Los Angeles_ **

She got to Tom’s room around 8pm. He didn’t answer so she let herself in. Vicky was not surprised to find he wasn’t there at all. She figured that with the press junket he’d be doing that he wouldn’t be back early. Making herself comfortable on the sofa she spotted a note on the coffee table.

_Sorry I am not there. If I take too long order yourself something to eat, please make sure you charge it to my room. If I take longer than that you have permission to go off on a Spanish filled tirade when I get back._

_\- Tom_

Vicky smirked and put the note back. It felt peculiar being in his room when he wasn’t there. After she settled onto the sofa she turned the TV on, catching up on the local news before wandering through the various channels the hotel had access to.

She did end up ordering up some food (Dover Sole – it was to die for – with some cheesecake for dessert) and watched a movie.

It was during the movie that her mind began to wander. She began to think of what to tell Tom. Her parents and brother didn’t know. She hadn’t told Amy yet; her best friend had been bugging her for the latest news. The only people that knew were in the little bubble of friends she had in LA. When Tom had called her and wanted to see her while he was in town she jumped at the chance. Vicky had planned on telling him the day before, while they were out. Except with him there it was easy to forget, forget her problems and recent decisions, and just be Tom and Vicky, Vicky and Tom for a while.

God had it felt terrific!

It was also completely moronic.

Really though, how do you explain that you were fooling yourself that you were over someone (not naming names) and hadn’t truly moved on. That you were so far in denial that they were going to rename the river after you? That it took you debating on whether or not Lyanna Stark from Game of Thrones willingly or not went with Rhaegar Targaryen, and the whole possible love triangle that was Lyanna, Robert and Rhaegar for this epiphany to happen. And, and, and…she was ranting in her mind.

When dinner had settled and she had exhausted the remaining decent shows on the television she decided to dim the lights and read a book on her Kindle app.

Much later, days perhaps, she would think that maybe dimming the lights was a bad idea fore she fell asleep reclining on the sofa. However other thoughts kept her from this immediate conclusion.

(If she had left the lights on, perhaps, just maybe…)

Being a deep sleeper had its perks. However that night it was a bit of a disadvantage. It wasn’t the bumbling at the door handle or the shutting of the door a little too hard or the giggling and smacking of lips that roused Vicky though she did hear echoes of those things in her dreams. When you’re dreaming though, your waking logic isn’t always there to guide you so the sounds were just absorbed, not bothering her further beyond turning into a twitchy, laughing fox.

What did wake her up was someone sitting, or rather falling, on her legs.

“ _Qué madres_ _!_ ” Vicky cried as she kicked the person off of her.

“Oh shit your couch is moving,” a woman’s voice cried out and then giggled. This was the same person that Vicky had kicked off. The woman giggled again and then she heard a moan. Distantly Vicky hoped that stranger had stumbled into a table or something.

“ _¿Qué está pasando!_ ” Vicky asked as she jumped up. Before anyone could answer she went to the wall and flicked the dimmer switch up. Where once there was darkness, there was now light and at the sight before her she wasn’t sure if wanted to cover her eyes or turn the lights back off. “ _Esto no está sucediendo_ ,” she breathed.

A blond woman and Tom stood, sort of, before her near the sofa. Tom had his jean and underwear pushed down to his knees, leaving himself exposed with the woman’s hand on his dick.

“You never said anything about another girl,” the woman said.

Vicky finally settled for covering her eyes, ignoring the stranger. “Hiddleston, pull up your damn pants,” she commanded.

There was a dramatic sigh and huff from the woman. “Look, I don’t do three ways, no offense, but that’s just not my thing.” Vicky had her eyes covered so she didn’t see what was happening, though she heard it. They were definitely kissing.

“Next time you’re out this way, handsome,” she said to Tom when they had to break for air, “give me a call. Here’s my number.” Then she left, leaving a minty scent trail in her wake.

Once the door was closed, hand still over her eyes, she asked, “Are you decent? I mean, you’re all put back together.”

“Yes,” Tom replied, annoyed.

Slowly she lowered her hand, in case he wasn’t. Thankfully he was all tucked back in, his jeans on and zipped closed.

“What the hell was that about?” Vicky demanded, pointing to the door.

Tom blinked at her slowly. “I  _was_  going to shag her brains out.”

Vicky sputtered before she could even find logical words to use. She could feel her face color in anger. “That’s nice and all but did you forget that I was here, _waiting for you_?”

He chuckled as he settled himself more comfortably on the sofa, his legs parted wide so his partial-hard on was still on display. “You have been the furthest thing from my mind since that bird crossed my path.” Animosity dripped from each word as he spoke.

The words stung, no doubt their intended desire, but this was Tom. If it was anyone else she would just nod her head and walk away, right out of their life. He was her friend though, a best friend. She felt he deserved a little more effort.

Changing tactics she took a seat next to him, her legs tucked up underneath her. She made as if to touch his arm but pulled her arm back at the last moment. “Tom, tell me what is going on,” she said softly, hoping not to stoke his ire.

It did not work. Tom shot up from his seat as if she had stabbed him with a hot poker. “You! You are the problem! You come here, all flirty and trying to wrap me around your finger. What the hell is that about?”

While his statement was not completely true she didn’t correct him, one battle at a time. “I know Tom, I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about tonight.” Vicky was not going bring up that just yet. She had to stay focused or she’d lose her temper.

He mocked her by pantomiming her talking with his hand. “Blah, blah, fucking blah, Vicky! I’ll tell you what is going on, what I have come to realize tonight. You’re a leech, a user. You’ve latched on to me when you have need of me, sucking my life from me, and when you’re done you cast me aside. Your sad little life carries on while I sit back wondering what the hell happened and where you’ve gone.”

Her heart fell to the floor, while her anger began to boil. “I’m sorry. I think I may have heard you wrong. Could you repeat that?” Vicky stood up, doing her best to look imposing. In any other situation it would have been laughable, her being several inches shorter than him.

Tom took a step closer to her, his fist clenched at his side. “You are a user, a soul sucking parasite. I have no need for you any longer and cast you off.” The odium practically oozed from his voice. “What have you ever done for me? Besides being cheap lodging when I needed it and an easy fuck?”

She had never, in all the years she had known him, seen him like this. The alcohol reeked on his breath. Perhaps that is what gave him the sudden rage and false thoughts. Or perhaps she had never known Tom at all. He said he was horrible liar. That could have been a lie itself and he had been pretending all these years. He was an actor, after all.

_It could have all been one great big act._

“Do your parents know that you spread your legs so easily for me after only a few days of knowing me?” His blue eyes, once friendly and smiling, were dark and hard as he bore into hers. “That I took your–”

Vicky had slapped people before, however she had never hit someone with an open hand as hard as she did Tom in that moment. The red hand print on his face was testament to the strength in which she possessed.

“ _Eres un hijo de la chingada_ _!_ You say I have never done anything for you?” Vicky spat back at him, driving her index finger into the center of his chest. “You degrade me to some leech, trying to ride your coattails to fame? Then you have the nerve, the ever fucking  _nerve_  to say you took, what, my virginity from me?” She couldn’t help the half-manic laugh that escaped from her mouth. Finger still pressed to his chest she drove him back. “You weren’t some thief in the night,  _cabrón_ ; you didn’t take jack shit from me! I let you have that honor but obviously I should have found someone a little more worthy.”

There were tears shining in her dark brown eyes, her breathing was no longer even as she spoke. “I have given you support when even you doubted yourself, I have shown you love when it has  _killed_  me because it was not the love I really wanted to show you, and I believed in you, I believed you to be a better man, a man on his way to greatness. No more though, I am done.”

Whatever spell he had been under before seemed to be lifting. His eyes searched her face, only finding the hurt and anger she currently felt. His jaw flopped useless as he seemed to attempt to use it before finding his voice. “Nike, wait, I’m sorry. I had a hard day today, and then I got drunk-”

“Don’t!” she shouted, and she didn’t care if the whole floor heard her. Tom actually flinched from the strength of her voice. “Don’t. Call me. That. Again. _Ever_. I am no longer your Nike, you have no right to call me that.” She couldn’t look at him anymore and turned her head away from him. A few tears cut their path down her face before dropping from her jaw.

He took a deep breath and spoke softly. “Vicky, I am sorry. I think I may have had a little too much tonight. With all the interviews and inane questions I mistakenly took my frustration out on you.”

She refused to look at him; her damn tears had started to fall faster.

“Please, please,” he begged, desperately taking one of her hands in his, his own tears ready to fall.

“It’s all right,” she replied. Though he took the words as comforting, they were devoid of emotion. With her free hand she wiped her face. “I don’t want you to feel tethered to me, Tom. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Just think of this like a movie, our last scene together. You’re not going to cry and I won’t scream at you anymore, okay?” He nodded, blinking back his tears.

Before she lost her nerve, before he could lure her back with his pretty words and entrancing voice she pulled her hand from his, grabbed her things, and left, the door softly clicking behind her.

It wasn’t until she was almost home that Vicky realized that she had quoted an Alien Ant Farm song as her parting words to Tom. She laughed. She laughed so hard that her sides began to hurt and she had to pull over, her chest heaving trying to catch air.

And then she cried.


	18. Chapter 18

**_11 April 2012, Wednesday, Gilbert, Arizona_ **

Laura was thinking of sleeping in as she hit her alarm. Allen had already left for work; the dog had been fed and watered by him. Braden no longer lived at home; instead he had followed his sister out to California after he finished college. She had the house all to herself; there was no reason to get up at six in the morning. She could sleep at least until 7:30 am.

The phone rang.

For one moment she debated whether or not to answer, thinking it was her husband calling to say he had left the garage door open (it wouldn’t be the first time).

Groggily Laura picked up the phone next to her bed and answered, “Hello?”

“Mom?”

Immediately she was wide awake and full of concerned. She knew the voice on the other end, had heard that voice call her everything from “Auntie La-la” to “Laura”. In nearly twenty-seven years they had never been called “Mom.”

“Vicky, what’s wrong?” Laura asked as she got out of bed, taking the cordless phone with her. The warble in Vicky’s voice as she said that one word told her more than enough.

Sniffle. “Mom, I was wondering if I could come home for a few days.”

“Yes,” Laura said without hesitation. “I can get on the computer, make some calls and have you fly out if you’d like?”

A small laughing sob sounded on the end of the line. “No, I’ll drive. It’s just a few hours; I just wanted to make sure it was all right if I came home for a little bit.”

“Baby, your dad and I will be here waiting for you. Just drive safe, okay?” Vicky agreed.

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Laura then called her husband and told him that their daughter was coming and to come home early. When he asked why all Laura said was, “She called me Mom.”

 

**_11 April 2012, Wednesday, Los Angeles, California_ **

What could have possibly made him say those things? What had possessed him? Sure, in part it was the drinks he’d had. After a long day of doing interviews he had needed something to relax. And then that bird came up to him at the bar. He remembered her from one of the many interviews, thought she was kind of cute beforehand and perhaps his tongue had been loose when he’d seen her at the bar, letting some of his thoughts out. She may or may not have encouraged the idea that he thought Vicky was using him, had been using him.

It was no excuse, just merely an explanation, he supposed.

Several hours before the premiere he was finally able to reach Vicky. Her phone had been off for most of the day. Luke had to talk him down from trying to find her, citing the approach of the premiere. Deep down though he secretly suspected that Luke knew that it would not be a wise decision, regardless, to go chasing after Vicky, as he had told the man everything.

After he heard her greeting on the other end he let out an audible sigh. “I am glad to hear your voice.”

“Um, thank you,” Vicky replied, sounding skeptical.

“No, you have no idea. I just wanted to apologize, love, for last night. It was a complete disaster and there aren’t words to describe how atrocious I was to you. You’re one of the dearest people to me and I don’t ever want you to forget that.”

“It’s okay, Tom. I’m fine,” she answered. “Since I have you on the phone, though, I wanted to let you know that I’m not going with you tonight, if that’s okay.”

Tom laughed, trying to keep things light. “I understand. Perhaps though we could get together for dinner tomorrow or the night after?”

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m actually out of the state at the moment visiting my parents. It’s my cousin’s birthday Friday and I thought I’d come out a few days early.”

That threw Tom off a little bit. “Oh, right, no problem. Happy birthday to your cousin; have fun and stay out of trouble.”

“Thank you. Goodbye.” She didn’t wait for him to finish his farewell before hanging up.

Tom looked to Luke. “Ah, she’s not coming tonight. No plus one for me.”

In Arizona Vicky went into her contacts and erased Tom’s email address, picture, birthday, and home address, and set his custom ringtone to silent. She went on to Twitter and unfollowed him and then unfriended him on Facebook. The only reason she kept his name and phone number in her contacts was to make it easier to avoid his calls.

 

**_1 May 2012, Santa Monica, California_ **

Vicky was out with friends celebrating her birthday when her phone went off. Without really looking at it she opened it. It was text was from Tom.

 

> _“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.” I hope on your birthday today you have smiled and laughed enough that in the years to come you will bear the evidence of your joy. I will raise a glass to you tonight in your honor. All my love, Tom_

By the time she was done reading it he had sent a picture of a goofy looking cartoon dog holding a sign saying “Have a Paw-fect Birthday!”

She replied back with a thank you and left it at that.

 

**_25 June 2012, Monday, Wimbledon_ **

It was in between sets when Tom looked over at his sister and saw Emma on her mobile, thumbs flying over the screen as she typed away.

Out of curiosity Tom asked, “Who are you messaging?” He tried to be sneaky and peer over and see but her hand blocked his view.

Emma grinned at him. “Vicky. I had asked her a few days ago if she had seen _Dark Shadows_ yet so we could weep over Johnny Depp’s hair.” His sister chuckled. “She hadn’t, but she saw it for me. She is currently asking why I put her through such a thing.” She tapped out another reply to whatever Vicky had sent her.

He attempted to do the calculations for the time difference in his mind and came to the conclusion that it was very early in the morning there.

“Do you know if she’s seen _Avengers_ yet?” Tom asked and cleared his throat, attempting to be nonchalant about it.

One of Emma’s dark blonde eyebrows rose above her sunglasses as she looked at her brother before returning her to attention back to the mobile.  After a few moments Emma replied, “She said she hasn’t, since she has been busy with work.” She looked like she wanted to ask him why he didn’t know this already, but thankfully refrained.

 

**_July 2013 (Present Day), West Hollywood, just after 7 p.m._ **

Tom had dropped his things off at this hotel and had spent the time since then building up his courage to seek out Vicky.

He realized belatedly that she might not even be at her flat. That she may have moved in with Callum. Still he’d try the flat they once shared first before going over to Callum’s.

The area had not changed much since he had last been there. Which made him think, ‘When was the last time I was here?’

Tom took his time as he approached her door, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, his boots thumping on the walkway. Nervously he adjusted his black leather jacket before knocking.

“See, told you the pizza would come sooner,” a man’s voice said from within. Tom groaned. She had moved. He waited for the door to be answered so he could explain he had the wrong address.

The door swung open and there was a tall, but familiar looking young man standing before him. He had sandy blonde hair and light eyes. “You’re not from Papa John’s.”

Tom took a moment more to study the man before him, before he caught sight of the Grecian nose and jaw line they shared, “Braeden?”

The younger man’s eyes flickered over his cousin’s face before he narrowed them and growled out, “Tom.”

“Hey Bray, I was wondering–” Tom started to say, but he was thrown off by the fist that came his way. He wasn’t sure to whether attribute thanks to his stunt training, yoga or being an avid runner for allowing him to dodge the angry bloke’s strike.

Braeden huffed and pulled back for another swing, “You asshole!” Again he swung and missed, forcing Tom to back away. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Another swing and he grazed Tom’s bicep. “My dad said he’d kick your British ass and since he isn’t here, I’ll just have to!”

“What’s going on Braeden?” A girl said, appearing in the door way.

Braeden’s chest heaved from the adrenaline and effort of his near attack on Tom. “This is my asshole cousin I was telling you about the other day.”

The girl cautiously stepped in between them in an obvious attempt to play peacekeeper. “Oh, right. Hi, I’m Heather, Braeden’s girlfriend,” and she offered her hand.

Tom looked warily between her and Braeden before taking her hand and shaking it, “Tom, the asshole cousin, apparently.”

Heather looked between the two men before inviting Tom inside the flat. Braeden crossed his arms and followed them inside, his anger never leaving his eyes.

The flat was in disarray. Boxes were stacked against the walls, labeled with their contents, the walls themselves bare, shelving units empty. She was moving. It made sense. She was getting married, no doubt taking her belongings to Callum’s place or wherever they were going to live together.

Braeden took a seat on a camping chair (an observably temporary fixture) while Tom and Heather took seats on the sofa. It was awkward glances and silence until the real delivery guy arrived and dropped off the pizza. Despite his current dislike of Tom, Braeden offered him food. Tom declined, his stomach churning from all the excitement and anticipation.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” Braeden said once he was done eating. “You have no idea the damage you caused.”

Tom hung his head. “I – I…you’re right. I can’t even comprehend what I’ve done to your sister. I know I thought that we had parted as the friends we once were, but clearly I was wrong.”

“Damn straight,” Braeden huffed and crossed his arms across his chest. Tom figured it was in an effort to appear large. It was funny since they were built just about the same.

Suddenly Braeden sobered. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs. “You have no idea how hard it’s been to see her return to the way she once was.”

Tom’s brows furrowed; he looked to Heather only to see she was gone. A noise from the kitchen let him know she had retreated there. “I don’t understand, the way she ‘once was’?”

“Yeah, you see Vicky wasn’t always so…she used to blend into the background, hide. She wasn’t exactly a wallflower but she seemed to prefer to hang back and let things go by.” Braden sighed heavily before continuing. “I remember when I was really young she’d bury herself in her room with books and comics. Sure, she had friends, but she preferred to stay in her room. I think now it was her building this barrier, to protect herself. It took a long time for people to get past it. Ask Amy. Amy isn’t her best friend just for any ol’ reason.

“Then you show up and I swear it was the first time I saw my sister take to someone right away, to be that friendly, joking and teasing. I didn’t like you for that. I thought you were going to hurt her like I knew she feared someone would.” He bitterly laughed, “I was eventually proven right. I did begrudgingly like you for, I dunno, getting her out of her shell. She seemed…better for knowing you.” Braeden sat back in his seat, eyes on Tom. “I may be younger than she is but I have always been protective of her; you don’t understand how much I want to wring your neck right now.”

“I am not going to take credit for what appears to you was making her ‘better’. I think Vicky has always been of her own mind and there is very little one can do to influence her.” Tom admitted, “I will say she has made _me_ better and I appreciate her for that.”

Braeden’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his relative. “Yeah, you have a sure shitty way of showing it. I think if anyone else would have done whatever you did to her she’d have been okay. It was you though; whatever you said or did caused her to toss up these stupid walls again. And right now I hate you for that.”

It was Tom’s turn to hang his head. “I don’t deny these allegations, and you have every right to abhor me. I don’t blame you or hold it against you.” He lifted his head and sought to fasten his eyes onto Braeden’s. “Bray, you have to believe me when I say I am more than willing to spend the rest of my life to pay penance for it.”

“You care for her,” Heather said suddenly, reappearing. She had been quiet until then, in the other room, letting Tom and Braeden go back and forth.

Tom looked over at her and he realized he knew nothing about her. Usually his mother and Emma, as they spoke to them the most, kept him up to date on the goings-on of family members. Yet he had never heard of her. Last he heard was Braeden dating a nice bloke at his university. Was Braeden even in uni anymore?

Pushing his current thoughts aside he replied, “Yes, I care for her immensely.”

She looked between the two men before speaking. “She’s downstairs doing laundry if you want to speak with her.”

He hadn’t actually thought that they were trying to keep him from her; rather he thought she just wasn’t there.

“Heather!” Braeden admonished her. “C’mon!”

Heather just shrugged, “Look, I don’t see the point in not telling him. They need to talk. Let them talk.” She went to Braeden and ran her hands through her boyfriend’s wavy hair. “If he upsets her you can beat him up then.” She looked at Tom and gave him a wink. “In the mean time you need to go pick up her cat.”

He took that as his cue to leave, while Braeden was distracted and possibly out of the complex. The laundry facility was on the ground level and Tom had no trouble finding it, his feet leading him on the once familiar pathway as quickly as possible.

Not that he needed memory to guide him. As soon as he was on the ground level he could hear Vicky finish up singing to “99 Red Balloons” as covered by one of the ska bands she listened to. Where Tom had been on the verge of nearly jogging to her, his steps slowed as he approached. Would she even speak with him? Would she tell him off and tell him to leave?

_Would she forgive him?_

Tom’s fingers twitched nervously at his sides as he neared the door. The song had changed by the time he reached the doorway. Her voice carried to him as she sang, the song now nearly over.

“ _Dreams, Dreams_  
_Of when we had just started things_  
 _Dreams of me and you_  
 _It seems, It seems_  
 _That I can't shake those memories_  
 _I wonder if you feel the same way too.”_

The laundry facility was small, with two washing machines and two tumble dryers and a long counter that was used for everything from folding clothes to sitting on to using as a table to eat at while your clothes dried. Vicky currently had her phone on it, blasting music, along with her laundry basket and an array of books. The smell of fruity detergent floated over to him when he came to stand in the doorway; the gentle thumping of the dryers created a background beat for her music. 

Her dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail, bouncing side to side in time with the music as she danced and sang with her back to him, loading the washing machine with clothes. He could have turned around and walked away, and she would never know that he had been there.

However he did not just hop on an airplane across the Atlantic and most of the continental United States just to turn around.  
  
_“The littlest things that take me there_  
 _I know it sounds lame but it’s so true_  
 _I know it’s not right, but it seems unfair_  
 _That the things reminding me of you_  
 _Sometimes I wish we could just pretend_  
 _Even if only for one weekend_  
 _So come on, Tell me_  
 _Is this the end?”_

Vicky punctuated each of the last four words of the song with a hip jerk to the left or right.

Having a sudden flare for dramatics he answered the last line of the song, “I certainly hope not.”

She let out a scream and dropped the clothes in her hands onto the floor. Her brown eyes wide, her mouth dropped open as she spun around. Her right hand clutched at the base of her throat as if to stop her heart from travelling upwards.

It took her a moment to recover before she cursed at him and shouted, “Goddamn it, Tom!” She quickly bent down to gather the clothes into her arms and place them in an empty washer.

Tom hesitantly smiled at her. “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He took a step toward her and hoped he didn’t scare her off.

It was another moment or two before she calmed down enough to speak with him. As she nervously smoothed her singlet – it showed off the freckles on the tops of her shoulders perfectly – she looked up at him and that is when he saw the wall come up. He didn’t realize how much like a physical barrier it could be. Where at one time she would have scowled at him before laughing, the look in her eyes currently turned quickly to a sort of detached blank look and her lips did not twitch with a smirk.

“What are you doing here?” Even the question she asked lacked the vibrancy he normally associated with her. She sounded like a primary school teacher talking to the class clown, slightly annoyed and bored.

Her change in demeanor threw him off, to say the least, and he shifted on his feet nervously. “I came to see you.”

A dark, curved eyebrow rose before returning to its normal place as she crossed her arms. “You came to see me? Okay, why?”

It hit him just then that his reason why was utterly asinine. He couldn’t think of a proper lie that would casually explain his materialization and of course she would notice if he did. “I came to talk to you about marrying Callum.”

Unsure of what her response would be he found himself surprised when all she did was blink at him and asked, “What about it?”

While not a complete disaster (yet), he found the conversation was already going off script from the different scenarios he had played out in his mind. “Don’t marry him.”

The slightly annoyed and bored tone of her voice seeped into her body language and facial expressions. “Why is that?”

He thought he’d have more build up to this part. More explanation and substantiation to back up the words that threaten to get stuck in his throat because suddenly he was reduced to an adolescent boy. She waited patiently for him to reply.

“Because I love you, because I am _in_ love with you. I flew out here as soon as I realized that.”

She didn’t reject him; however neither did she meet his confession with a great show of joy. “Hold on, let me get this straight.” Then she halted her words and seemed to ponder what she was going to say next. “Let me get this straight,” she repeated, “you flew out here, on a whim, to see me, yes?” He nodded his head. “In some sort of attempt to convince me not to marry someone because you decided to tell me that you’re in love with me?”

Tom rubbed his throat nervously, “Yes.”

With her arms still crossed she rubbed an elbow like a worry stone, her eyes dropped to the floor. “I think the only way you could have made this more cliché is if there was going to be a wedding and you showed up in the middle of the ceremony to object.”

He couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. “I suppose I could have, but I couldn’t wait that long.”

She looked up at him and for a moment he saw her vulnerability shining in her eyes. “Why have you now decided to show up, pretending like you’re some white knight here to rescue me?”

Taking a chance he took a step forward, venturing further into the facility. Vicky didn’t move, and he took that as neither encouragement nor discouragement, lest he let his optimism rise or lower in either direction. “Your wedding invitation arrived at my neighbor’s some time ago, and they were only able to deliver it to me a few days prior due to certain circumstances. When I saw it there in my hands that you were truly getting married I knew I couldn’t hesitate in telling you how I truly felt about you. You wouldn’t answer my calls, my messages or my emails. So I took to drastic measures and flew halfway around the world to speak with you.”

A light of understanding colored her face for a moment. “Ah, you were one of the few that slipped through the cracks.” The chuckle that escaped her was humorless. “You weren’t supposed to get that,” she explained and must have seen his hurt face because she added, “but no one was supposed to get an invitation.”

“What?”

Her face was a little cold when she said, “The night you went off on your hate filled rant.” She held up her hand to stop him as he tried to explain that night again, “I was going to tell you that Callum and I had called it off. I had been hoping for an ear to listen, especially since I hadn’t told anyone else. Obviously that isn’t what happened.”

Tom was shocked. She wasn’t engaged in April when he saw her? Vicky had already broken up with Callum? “What?” he repeated as little pieces attempted to fall into place.

She turned back to the washer and continued to load clothes. “It had just happened a little while before you came into town. Maybe a week or so, I don’t remember exactly. Which is horrible because that was just a few months ago.” Vicky paused as she tightened her ponytail, back still to him. He recognized it for what it was: one of her tells. She was ill at ease and was trying to play it off as casual. Vicky continued, “And I was going to tell you on the day we saw the air show but it was just so nice to forget.” She stopped once again, her mind briefly going back to that day.

He took another cautious step forward, making sure she heard him approach. Tom still felt as if she was some skittish colt ready to bolt if he made the wrong move.

“I am well and sincerely sorry for how I acted. If needs be, I will spend the rest of my life proving the depths of my regret for my actions and words.” He reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flinched and that caused something inside his chest to tighten.

Slowly she pulled her shoulder away from him. Taking a chance she turned part way and looked at him. “It’s all right, I forgive you, mostly.” The smile she graced him with did not reach her eyes. She returned to the washer and finished loading it before turning it on.

It reminded him that the wall was still there. She may have forgiven him but she wasn’t going to let him back in. The more he thought about it the more he realized that he didn’t know what was going on with her life. When she had first told him she was engaged he had been taken aback. He had been surprised, of course, but he understood now it wasn’t the announcement that stunned him. Rather it was that she and Callum had reached that point in their relationship.

Vicky had pulled away from him a long time ago and he was only seeing it now. She had pocketed him away from the rest of her life. He wasn’t sure why. Rather turning her back on him that night of their fight, she had closed the door and locked it.

Tom turned to look at the books she had spread behind her. They were opened to various places and on some pages they were heavily highlighted. A buzzer went off and Vicky went to get her dry clothes as Tom skimmed over what they were about. One featured Europe and the Middle Ages, another was about the role of the Greeks in the Western World and one even appeared to be on World War II.

“What are these for?” Tom asked as he fondled the pages of one of book, reading the annotations Vicky had written in the margins.

Vicky huffed as she tossed the unfolded clothes into a basket. “They’re from the night classes I took last year. I’m trying to decide whether to keep them, sell them back or just donate them.”

Tom flipped a page and then looked at her, curiosity written all over his face. “You mean when you went to university in San Jose,” he said, thinking she had misspoken.

“Nope, this past year,” she replied as she opened up the other washer and retrieved wet clothes from it to put into the now empty tumble dryer. “I've been taking classes hoping to work towards a B.A. in history.”

More confused than before he asked, “You went back to university?”

The wet clothes thumped into the dryer as she loaded them. “Technically it was a community college. One of the professors for a course I was taking is going to help teach this study/travel abroad class for eight weeks and he invited me to go. I;ve completed his class, of course, but it sounded like fun so I’m taking an Art History appreciation course for it. Basically it’s an excuse to spend my days in museums and gawk, with a healthy dose of admiring all the really lovely architecture.”

This is something he assumed she would have known for months in advance she was doing. Yet this was the first he was hearing of it. It was quickly becoming a common theme for his thoughts. “Where,” his voice caught and he cleared his throat before attempting to talk again, “where are you going for this trip?”

“Italy, Spain, we might dip into France or Portugal too.” Vicky tossed a little white sheet in and closed the door before she adjusted the settings to her liking and started the machine. “So I am packing things up, putting them into my parents’ storage unit and then flying out to Rome. I mean I had to anyway, but now I get to add a trip to the end of that sentence.”

There were several questions he wanted to ask, more than several actually. Just one, though, passed through his lips. The most important one. “What happened?”

_What happened to us?_

She had turned back to the basket with the fresh, unfolded clothes. Her tanned hands paused as she pulled out a shirt. Those dark eyes he had learned to read over the years looked up at him; now they were closed windows with the sheer curtains pulled closed. The emotions and thoughts he might have easily read once upon a time were only hinted at now, vague depictions and ghosts of what he could only guess at.

“I got tired of waiting,” Vicky answered as simply as if he was asking what color the ocean was. As if those five words explained the complete workings of the cosmos.

She got tired of waiting. Tom wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Did he ask how long she had been waiting? When did she get tired? Questions and more questions spun around in his head, much like a cyclone across his thoughts. He didn’t have to respond though as Vicky continued on.

“Remember that night on the roof, when you kissed me for New Year’s?” she asked as she folded her clothes. “That was when I realized that I was hanging onto you, that I was waiting, that I had been waiting since…I don’t know when. But I just knew right then that I had to let you go. I did my best to keep to the edges of your life so when that moment came when you’d turn away and finally leave me behind it wouldn’t matter anymore.” She let out an icy laugh as she pulled more clothes out of the basket. “But damn you if you didn’t keep pulling me back in. It wasn’t like I wanted you gone from my life, I just…when you introduced me as your cousin that one time, I came to accept that that was all I’d be, you know? Some distant pseudo-relation to you through some very convoluted means. Someone you’d see occasionally at holiday gatherings, share a polite smile with and we’d both carry on.”

“Is that what you honestly wanted?” Tom solemnly asked as his heart thumped out a cross-beat of a big brass band. Did she really want him out of her life?

Sighing heavily she looked at him. Her eyes were wet rimmed, tears held at bay by her rapid blinking. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to tell you to leave, right now, to never come back, and the other part is so confused.” Vicky let out a wet laugh as a tear escaped, which she promptly wiped away. “And here you are, standing there looking like some fracking model. God, I remember when you could barely dress yourself! But you’re here and saying that you’re in love with me.” She wiped her eyes as more tears threatened to escape. “Tell me, Tom, would you have flown out here in an attempt at some grand gesture if you had never received that invitation, or are you only doing this as a last resort?”

His mouth opened to explain to her that it wasn’t like that. That he wasn’t lying when he said he’d have shown up on her doorstep regardless. The words failed, though, because she made him think, would he have been impulsive and taken these actions if he hadn’t been given that invitation? Were his actions fueled by his feelings for her or by jealousy that she’d choose someone else?

“I may not have come to you at this moment but I would have,” Tom finally replied. “If you still refused my calls, my messages, I would have found you and still told you that I love you.”

Vicky cut him off from continuing. “And then what Tom, we’d ride off into the sunset on your white horse and live happily ever after?” She looked at him in disbelief. “Life isn’t some fucking fairy tale, okay? No grand confessions of love or whisking me away are going to work.”

Her tears were flowing freely down her face. He desperately wanted to brush them away, to take her up in his arms and never let her go. She’d probably push him away or hit him if he tried. Tom timidly reached for her hand and took it in both of his. He knew he needed to attempt to reach her before her heart became indurated. “Tell me what I need to do, what I need to say to make you believe that the way I care for you is true. I don’t care if takes two days or two hundred years for you to find a way to prove myself because I will wait. Love, oh my Heart,” he placed her hand over his fast beating heart, holding it there firmly. Hoping she’d feel how it called for her. “You have it and there will never be any other for me. I know I have hurt you. I know that you’ve forgiven me in your own way. There is no conceivable reason for me to ask this – _beg this_ – of you, but please,” he squeezed her hand, “please my darling Vicky, do not shut me out. Please tell me there is some way that I will hear you yell at me in Spanish when I piss you off, or have you bring me down a peg or two when my head gets too large, or push me to do better when I aim too low.” He brought her hand up and lightly pressed his lips to her finger tips. Tom locked eyes with her dark, oh so lovely dark brown eyes, eyes that had slow falling tears escaping from them right now because he had damaged their relationship to almost beyond repair and was desperately trying to save some remnant.

Tom placed her hand back over his heart. “Is there some way that I might still be able to hear the way you laugh at a stupid joke? That I still might be able to watch you tuck your feet under you when you sit down and get lost in a book? Or see you drink coffee that is more sugar than it is anything else? See the way you’ll eat just the frosting off chocolate cake when you don’t want to appear rude and refuse it? I want to hear why you went back to university. I want to hear all the stories that I’ve missed, and I want to hear them a thousand times over because there is no sweeter sound than your voice, no sweeter sight than your face when you’re happy, when talking passionately about something you care about, when your lips curve to flash that Cheshire cat grin of yours.”

_I want to see your dark hair spread across my pillow every morning, knowing that I mussed it the night before. I want to see your hand twined with mine as we walk down a street. I want feel your breath in my ear as you whisper into it. I want to feel my body curve around yours as I worship it. I want to hear my name fall from your lips as I take you over the edge; I want to hear my name on your lips when you’re asking me if I want a biscuit too. I want to taste your mouth, and your neck, and your stomach. I want to see you when you’re older, but you will never be old, and hear you complain about your first grey hair and tease me when my hairline finally recedes too far back, and see you with children that hopefully look more like you than me because you are of the divine and I am a mere mortal who is asking for far too much. But God, I want it, God **do I want it**._

_I want it all, and I want it all with you._

He couldn’t resist any longer and pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. If Vicky refused him, it would be the last time that he held her. He’d want to remember this moment. Tom would forever remember the smell of the detergent that had stowed away in her hair, trying to vie for dominance over the tropical scent of her shampoo and of the setting sun that took refuge in it from earlier in the day. How her body felt pressed against his, even for just a moment, before she pulled away from him enough so that they weren’t touching completely, but didn’t break from his arms. He pressed his cool forehead against her warm one. “Please, tell me I haven’t lost you completely and how I can earn my way back to you.”

Vicky sniffled and looked up at him. Her eyes searched his for what seemed like a very long time before she answered:

“You need to leave.”


	19. Chapter 19

**_July 2012, Present Day, West Hollywood_ **

Tom was flabbergasted as he looked at her, pulling his head away from hers to search her face. “What?”

Vicky shrugged his arms off of her; no more tears fell, not for or because of Tom Hiddleston. “I said you need to leave.”

“How is that…I don’t.” he floundered, “Why?”

She backed away from him further, as much distance as she could manage, and crossed her arms. Since she lacked any physical armor her arms would have to suffice. Goddamn him for showing up out of the blue. Of course it was partly her own fault; if she had only read his text or email this could have been avoided.

What game was he playing, anyway? She was pretty sure his true feelings were made known last time they had “talked”. She was a parasite and he was the unwilling host, as he saw it anyway.

“You have to ask why, really?” Vicky took a moment to study his face, to see if she could tell if he was being false in any way. Not that it mattered entirely. Their relationship on his part had evidently been fabricated. He could have been faking it but did appear to be genuinely confused.

“Tom, what you’re doing right now, what you’re saying, is desperation.” She gestured to him, “This, this is an act. You claim that you don’t lie well – which we both know is not true – but what you’re trying to convince me of is not genuine.”

He looked stunned. “Not genuine? Vicky, I just flew across the world for you. I start filming again soon and really shouldn’t be here but I told my management to bugger off so I could see you.”

She rolled her eyes, still amazed that he didn’t get the point. “That’s what I mean! You were desperate; you were scared of something changing so completely that you thought you were being noble or some shit. You came here to rescue me as if I was some damsel in distress being forced into a marriage. But I am not some goddamn damsel in distress!”

He made a noise that sounded very similar to a growl. “I know you aren’t some ‘damsel in distress!’ Hell, you’d free yourself and the whole damn castle. Didn’t you hear what I said, though? I love you, you infuriating woman, I love you, _I am in love with you_ , and I want to fix things between us.” He took a step closer to her; she watched as his hands flexed and rose up before falling back to his sides.

As she shook her head she said, “You don’t want to fix anything.”

“Yes I do,” he insisted as he came closer still, “I most certainly do. I _genuinely_ want to know how to fix things between us; tell me what I need to do.”

It was strange, feeling as if she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “If you _genuinely_ wanted to fix things between us you would have asked me months ago.”

He looked confused once more. Vicky was beginning to think that it was going to become his default look soon. “I did. I called you the day after it happened. You said you were fine. I took you at your word.”

The dried tear tracks on her face crinkled as she gave a bitter laugh, “When has fine ever meant ‘fine’ when a person says that? We’ve seen enough movies to know that fine really means freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional. And let me tell you I was never more ‘fine’ than I was when you called me. Besides your little message on my birthday and the past few days I haven’t heard hide nor hair from you.”

“I’m sorry. I was a little busy, if you hadn’t noticed. There was this little movie I was promoting, if you didn’t know,” Tom snapped, not meaning to, and immediately regretted it. Before he could apologize Vicky rolled her eyes and turned her head away from him.

“Yeah, I know. It was kind of hard not to escape your face plastered all around town and on the TV,” she grumbled.

“Is that it? You were trying to avoid me?” Tom asked, echoing an earlier question. Perhaps he’d get a different response.

“I was trying to get over you, Tom.” Her voice was firm as she spoke, “I was trying to move on.” She let out a short, bitter laugh. “And I thought I was doing well. I went back to school to bust my ass off on a degree that had nothing to do with my professional career. I met this great guy who, for whatever reason, seemed interested in me. I thought I could have…something with him. I even thought for a brief period that I could make a life with him.”

“So, why didn’t you?” Tom wanted to know; he wanted to hear her say it was because of him, because she loved him, that she couldn’t marry Callum.

“Game of Thrones.”

That was not the answer he was expecting.

The confusion was written clearly on his face. Vicky took a small bit of pleasure in having confounded him. At least she would have if she wasn’t still upset with him. To capitalize on her small victory, though, she went to one of the washing machines and sat on top of it. It helped even out their height difference, made things a little more level. “Callum and I got into a debate on whether Lyanna Stark went willingly with Prince Rhaegar and whether they may have even cared for each other. I am of the opinion she went willingly, and he thought she was kidnapped. Long story short, I said Lyanna should have been with someone who loved her. He argued that Robert did love Lyanna.” She started to fiddle with the hem of her shorts as she continued to look at Tom. “I argued that Robert didn’t really love her, that he loved the _idea_ of Lyanna, but thought of her as more of a possession than as anything romantic. Something he would be able to show off to all his friends, as if to say, ‘Look here lads, I have the prettiest wife of them all.’ And that caused Callum to have some sort of epiphany.”

He shifted on his feet, waiting for her to continue. Tom saw that she was hesitant so he softly prompted, “What sort of epiphany?”

She opened her mouth once, closed it, and waited for one more beat before continuing. “He said that he realized he was Robert Baratheon, that I was Lyanna. I don’t want to repeat all that he said.” _I was Lyanna; you were Rhaegar. That he realized while he loved me, he really only wanted us to get married because it would be the final ‘fuck you, she’s mine,’ he could manage to you. And a slew of other things I don’t even want to think of right now._ “The gist is that he realized his love for me wasn’t the right kind of love, and my love for him was the same. He thought I’d end up running away with you because he thought it was you I really loved.”

Tom couldn’t help but perking up at this. It was just a few crumbs she had given him, but he would grab and hold them.

“So you and Callum…everything has been called off.” He needed to hear her say it. He needed it to be confirmed. It was too much to hope that the second crumb was true.

She nodded her head, “Yup. It’s true, we’re done. No wedding or anything.” Her hand made a movement in the air as if she was slicing through something. “He actually took a job out of state,” but she quickly added, “not because of the break-up or anything, it just happened to come along.”

“Is it true, then?” he asked as he approached her slowly.

As she adjusted her ponytail again she used the opportunity to look at the ground and Tom’s approaching feet. “Is what true?”

“That you love me? Love me as more than a friend, was Callum right?”

It was quiet, save for the thumping of the washing machine and dryer, as Vicky took her time in answering him. Part of him wanted to grab her by the shoulders, invade her personal space, and demand to know the answer. The other part was scared she’d make a dash from the room, especially since he caught her glancing at the exit more than once.

“Tell you what,” Vicky finally replied. She watch him let go of his breath. “I will answer your question if you answer mine. Why did you say those things to me that night?”

It was Tom’s turn to embrace silence. To Vicky it didn’t look like he didn’t know what to say, but rather that he had too much to say and had to pick the right words to express himself. She took the opportunity to study him, away from his gaze that seemed to be everywhere but on her.

His hair was on the longer side. Well, longer than she had seen it in a while, costumes aside. And it was near its natural state of unruliness. He wore the leather jacket she had gotten for him years ago, a white V-neck shirt, blue jeans, and his cowboy boots.

She took a pause at his choice of footwear and color jeans. While she knew Tom had moved on from questionable wardrobe choices there was one thing she could always count on him to do: wear his boots with his black jeans. (Though for all her complaining about his most common wardrobe choice she secretly got a kick out of it.) He did it because it seemed to annoy only her. The fact that he appeared to take her frequent complaint into consideration caused a hitch in her breath for a moment.

‘Can’t read too much into it,’ she told herself. Nope, no way she’d allow herself to do that.

“Nik-” He began and then stopped, “Vicky, I have no adequate words to describe my despicable behavior and words that night, or the reason why. If I was to put it simply, I would say I was scared.”

The Tom before Vicky at that moment held no arrogance in his eyes or body; he was completely open like a wound, exposed and on display so she could see everything that he had been covering up since he hurt her. Regret, anger at himself, pain at their separation, and a type of need she couldn’t describe. It was Tom at his purest and most raw form.

She was not going to be sucked in by those blue eyes. “You’re going to need to explain that, Tom, because you sure didn’t seem scared at the time.”

He saw her plant her feet firmly on the ground, metaphorically, ready to resist and shut him out forever if his explanation was found wanting. Tom gave himself a mental shake as he prepared to answer her. It was all or nothing now. If he failed this he’d truly only have himself to blame.

"I was scared," he repeated. “It was entirely cretinous."

"That is an understatement."

"I let myself be struck with morosis," he continued. “Every fear I could possibly have about you, I let get to me.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “Fear? About me?”

“Yes! I was bloody frightened!" He flung his arms out, ever the animated speaker. “It didn’t hit me until after you left Sunday evening that I could have what I’ve wanted for a long time, that I had what I’d been dreaming of near my grasp.” He looked at her and the intensity made her reel back. “You have to know that, after spending those two days with you, I didn’t care if you were engaged. I was going to do my best to sweep you off your feet and into my arms, never letting go.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “It felt more like you swept me under the rug.”

Tom groaned and fell to his knees before her where she sat on her perch. “You don’t understand. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, the end of one book and the start of another. I saw a life that we could have together, a great life. It was a dream nearly come true. Then I found a gun on the ground, filled with all my doubts and insecurities, and shot myself in the foot with it.” He covered his face with his hands. “I just let them get to me; any false thought I may have ever had about us, any misgiving I possessed, ate at me all during the interviews the next day. By the time you saw me I was just some misshapen form of myself, warped and spitting with rage inside. I could blame it on the alcohol, but that would just be one lie on top of another.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, as if it could erase scenes from that night replaying in his mind.

Vicky wasn’t sure what to do with Tom on the ground before her. He was close enough that all she had to do was reach out and touch the curls on his head. “Was anything you said true that night?”

He pulled his hands away from his eyes. They were wet and when he blinked a few tears fell. “No, god, no. And afterwards I just wanted to believe that we were all right. I lied to myself about that, and believed nothing had changed. Told myself we had other things going on and that’s why we weren’t talking. That maybe in time we would have come together again and things would have been the way they were before.”

A little laugh escaped before she could stop it. “That sounds like a load of crap.”

Bleary-eyed, he gave her a smile back. “Yes, it is, I suppose. I never wanted to hurt you, despite what I said and did; I did not mean any of it. It was all lies and not truly how I felt. I cannot express enough how sorrowful I am for causing you that pain. I can only imagine what you went through. You are who I hold most dear to my heart, and I shattered yours. Know that I will regret what I did for the rest of my life.”

They were silent for a long while. The dryer kept turning, the washer still churned. Long forgotten was her phone, still playing music and only pausing for a brief moment to chime, letting her know she had a message. Tom rested his head against the cool metal of the washing machine, between her calves, waiting for her to say something.

“Yes,” Vicky finally croaked out.

He pulled back to look up at her, determined to hold her gaze now. “Yes what?”

“To answer your question. Yes, Callum was right,” she clarified.

He stood up so fast that it made his head spin a little. Tom had to be sure, though. He knew she wouldn’t try to deceive him, but he didn’t want any potential doublespeak to get in the way. So he asked, “You love me, then, more than platonically?”

Hope was written was across his face as he waited for her answer. Where he had felt his heart fall to his feet earlier, it now drummed against his ribs to the tune of her name, ensuring that his love for her would be embedded into his very being. Tom’s fingers itched to touch her arm, her neck, and her knees, anywhere her skin was exposed, to ground him.

Vicky hesitated before answering. “Look, Callum _was_ right. I can’t say, though, at this moment, if I still love you. Not like that, anyway.”

Just like that the bottom fell out from under Tom, again. “What do you mean?”

She briefly met his eyes before turning away. “I mean, I want to believe what you’ve said; I just don’t think I can do that at this time.” Blasted tears were starting again, and she turned her head further from him. “You said some pretty awful things. You said our friendship was never real, that you used me for convenience sake, and you made it seem like when we first met, shared that night together, it was part of some game to you."

Any progress Tom thought he had made felt as if it was slipping away from him, and quickly. Unable to hold back anymore he placed his hands gently on the side of her face, burying his fingers into her hair, and coaxed her to look at him. With his thumbs he gently wiped away the errant tears that had fallen.

"Our relationship is one of the most important in my life," Tom said, making sure to hold her watery gaze in his. “The fact that I have led you to believe otherwise is a crime against you. You have never been a mere convenience. If it had been anyone else I met all those years ago, I hate to admit I might not have worked to maintain any standing with them. The fact you have put up with me is a testament to your character." He took a deep breath and stepped as close as he could before the washer got in his way. “And know this, the night that you let me share something so precious with you was a great honor you gave me." He gave her a small smile and brushed away another tear with his thumb. “We were both young and a bit inexperienced, but I have always treasured the night we made love."

Vicky closed her eyes and let out small laugh, trying not to be too embarrassed. Her cheeks grew warm as she remembered younger Tom enjoying leaving marks with his mouth on her body, enjoying it more than any man had since then. That first feeling of him, feeling of any man, move within her and above her. How he said her name, as if it was sacred.

"I have named you queen. There are taller than you, taller," Tom began. “There are purer than you, purer. There are lovelier than you, lovelier. But you are the queen." He knew she’d recognize the lines of poetry he quoted. When she finally turned her eyes to him he let out a small relieved gasp. “I never told you this but when you went home after the Christmas we met I was quite the brooding young lad. I hated waking up knowing I would not see you that day. I hated that I would want to turn to you and share something, only to find you not at my side. That first Valentine’s Day I nearly wrote to you and confessed my feelings."

He licked his lips and couldn’t help but notice her eyes dip down to them before correcting themselves. “When we went to Hawaii I played at being a friend. I joked about keeping you near me so you would not get lost in the crowd. Truth was I wanted nothing more than to take you away from the covetous looks the other men threw at you. At every party you attended of Aunt Mildred’s I made sure you sat near me, so that if needs be you could hold my hand. I was pusillanimous, yet I wanted to be there in case you ever needed me. I still do." Done speaking for the time, he slowly removed his gentle hold of her face, unable to resist tucking a dark strand of hair behind one ear before placing his hands on either side of where she still sat.

As much as she tried to resist, she couldn’t help but have her heart melted just the smallest fraction. He was not only bringing up his happiest memories, but hers as well. She remembered feeling abashed when Laura told her that during their flight home she had cried in her sleep. Even while in denial in Hawaii she had been glad to have Tom as her near constant companion. Vicky also had to admit she liked seeing his reaction to her wearing a bikini, no matter how many times he had seen her in it. There were also the times he patiently waited for her while she browsed in a bookstore, or made sure to bring her back untraditional souvenirs from his travels that he knew she’d adore. He also made it a point that when she met any of his actor friends, or visited sets, his colleagues thought her just as big a deal as he was.

Did one mistake really negate nearly ten years’ worth of a relationship? Was this something she could forgive him for?

Yes. No. Maybe?

Hesitation rolled off her in waves. She was on the cusp of letting him back in or locking him out. Tom could read it in the shift of her eyes, the way she bit at the inside of her bottom lip and a slight twitch of her foot.

Feeling as if this was it, as if this was all or nothing, he brought up his hands again, this time gently wrapping his fingers around to the back of her neck; this time his thumbs traced her jaw. Tom heard her breath hitch before he pressed his lips to hers. It felt as his soul sighed in relief to be finally this close to hers once again. There was no hesitation as he moved his lips against hers; it was the most natural thing in the world.

It started off slowly, softly at first; they explored each other’s lips, relearning their long forgotten dance. Vicky was the one to deepen the kiss by slipping her tongue into Tom’s mouth, making him moan. Her lips were fuller than Tom’s, and he reveled in their lusciousness and the soft press of them against his own. He kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough, as if he never wanted to stop, as if he’d been waiting years to do this.

And he had.

She couldn’t deny the way he made her toes curl in pleasure, with nothing more than a small nip of her bottom lip. Those damnable long fingers of his had slid up the back of her neck and embedded themselves once again in her hair. She nearly lost herself in his kiss as her arms slipped under his jacket and around his chest. Vicky really did want to forget everything, and only remember the way he tasted, the way his back felt under her hands, and the way it felt to have his thumb caress her jaw as they kissed.

But she remembered.

Gently she pulled away and pushed him back. “Tom, stop. We have to stop." Immediately Tom stopped and took an extra step back further from where she had pressed him. She took several moments to recover and properly regain her wits. Kissing Tom could be quite disorienting.

“As nice as that was, we can’t do that, not again. Not right now. I am still not sure how I feel about you,” Vicky confessed, once recovered. “Part of me still wants to yell at you and tell you to take a long walk off a short pier. And the other just wants to cave.”

“Why not give in? If part of you wants that, then do it,” he encouraged her. “I’ll take that short walk if needs be.”

Vicky let out a frustrated cry as she hopped off the washer and moved away from him. “I can’t, I won’t!”

“Why?” he demanded.

“Because I haven’t fully forgiven you yet!” She shouted back at him, her hands balled up into fists. “I said I had mostly forgiven you. And I mostly forgave your apparent lapse of judgment, but not for the words you said. Not for the way you made me feel!”

Tom felt as if he had been punched in the gut, and physically staggered back. He looked at Vicky, with her lips kissed-bruised by him, hair slightly askew. Could he wait for her to forgive him? He had waited a decade for her thus far. It seemed as if she was still willing to give him a second chance, by some miracle.

“I apologize,” Tom replied. “You’re quite right, forgive me. I overstepped my boundry. What would you have me do?”

She sighed and went to her phone, finally turning the music off. Her back was to him as she fiddled with the device. “I need you to go. I need space."

"For how long?" He asked. “If I give you this space will you try to use it to push me out of your life again?"

_Will you forget me?_

Vicky turned around and slowly approached him, the smallest of smiles on her lips. “‘If you love something, set it free.’ Do you know that saying?"

“‘If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was,’" he finished for her. “Yes, I am familiar with it. What are you trying to say?" In that moment he could have sworn that his heart had stopped beating in fear of what she would say.

Squaring her shoulders, as if she was preparing for a fight, she said, “What I am trying to say is that I think we each need to let the other go, for a little while at least. You say your feelings are the real deal; fine, but I still have my doubts. About you, about my feelings for you. Give me time." Dark eyes implored his as she continued. “I already said I will be gone for several weeks in Europe. After that I have to find a job since my whole department was let go."

Tom didn’t know she had lost her job. He had been wondering how she’d managed to get so much time off for a holiday, regardless if it was for university.

"It may sound juvenile to say this, but I need to find myself again. Get things settled with myself. Especially now…after everything.”

He rubbed the front of his neck nervously. “Will you disappear and I never see you again?"

She smiled sweetly at him. “No. This isn’t a goodbye. More like a ‘see you later.’"

"A see you later," Tom repeated.

Vicky nodded her head. “Yes, can you handle that?"

He could. He would.


	20. Chapter 20

**Epilogue**

 

**_August 2012, Paris, France, Louvre Museum_ **

The itinerary for the trip she was going on changed just before she left. They had started in Italy, spending two weeks in Rome and two in Florence. She spent the four weeks as an impromptu translator. Thank goodness that Italian and Spanish were not so far apart on the language spectrum. Yeah, translations weren't perfect but it helped.

They would not make it over to Spain or Portugal, much to Vicky's dismay. She had been looking forward to exploring the Museo del Prado.

Still getting two weeks in Paris was nothing to sneeze at.

After using the previous day to settle in and rest a little, she and a few others in the group had decided to kick things off by heading straight for the Louvre.

As she walked the halls and corridors Vicky was hoping, wistfully, she'd be able to spend their whole time in Paris there.

There was one piece she wanted to see more than any other in the whole museum. And it wasn't the Mona Lisa.

"Oh look! There she is!" One of the girls in Vicky’s small group exclaimed. Most of the other group had wandered off to traipse around Paris. There was time for that. However, Vicky did not want to put off seeing her.

Vicky’s footsteps halted as she stared up at the statue before her. There, resting on her misshapen pedestal was the Winged Victory of Samothrace, often called the Nike of Samothrace. Whether it was her luck or by some divine intervention, no other tourists were in the area besides her and her small group there to admire the sculpture.

She couldn’t help but recall how the Curator of Sculpture, as they were preparing to whisk her away prior to Hitler's invasion of Paris, was said to have sank down on the steps and murmured, “I will not see her return.” Vicky was sure he spoke those words in part due to the art the Nazis were known to acquire, but also because she was made up of many pieces and was fragile. Yet, having survived being removed from the Louvre for a stay in the French countryside, she came back and was returned to these steps.

“She is beautiful,” Vicky muttered as she frantically snapped away for fear of their peaceful little bubble bursting.

Someone tapped her shoulder, making her jump before she turned to see Chad, a fellow traveller. “You should take a picture with your namesake,” he suggested. “Victory and Vicky meeting!”

“Oh my god! You totes should!” Heather cried and clapped her hands together. She was one of the youngest on the trip, as well as the most excitable, but also genuinely interested in the history of art.

Chad pried her camera from her while Heather took Vicky’s phone to snap a couple of shots with that. Perhaps a little stiffly, she stood there with a little smile on her face as her friends took a few photos. After counting to fifteen, thinking it would have given them enough time, she started to move away.

“Wait!” Heather cried out. “Hold your arms up, like they were wings!” Chad encouraged her and made some quip that caused Vicky to laugh as she threw her arms behind her in poor imitation of wings.

Chad laughed, “Perfect!”

Feeling giddy and silly, she traipsed down the steps to retrieve her camera and phone. Quickly looking over the pictures she felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Heather was peeking over her shoulder as she looked over the photos on her phone. “You look wonderful in that one,” she pointed out.

Vicky saw no difference between that and the others, but she thanked the girl. Going through her contacts she quickly selected her parents, her brother, Amy, Emma as well as Aunt Millie - scratch that. Aunt Millie could barely use her cell phone to make a call. Sending her a picture was not a wise choice. She made a note to have some physical copies made for Millie while in Paris and send those to her.

There was one last name her finger hovered over, debating on whether or not to include him. The picture was more or less harmless. Besides, of the people she’d send the picture to or show it, he would understand the significance the most.

With just a bit more hesitation she added his name and hit SEND.

 

**_Cologne, Germany_ **

Tom sat in the chair, doing his best to remain still, as his wig was removed for the day. Tilda was next to him, her wig also being removed, chatting amicably with him. They were done for the day, getting ready to make their way back to their hotel rooms.

Laughing at something his co-star had just said, his phone buzzed, politely letting him know that an email or message had been sent to him. Absentmindedly his thumb flicked across the screen to wake it up. At a pause in their conversation he looked down and couldn’t breathe for a few moments.

He feared he’d never see her again. Yet there she was, arms thrown back with smile that went from ear to ear, standing before the Nike of Samothrace. His Nike and the Nike of ancient times, though he felt one was more important than the other.

“She’s lovely,” Tilda commented.

“She’s my Nike,” Tom replied with a wistful voice before quickly correcting himself. “I mean, this is Vicky, a dear friend of mine.”

She gave him a knowing smile, but didn’t press him about it.

He quickly set about saving the photo and making it the background for his phone. Tom feared that he’d never see Vicky, his Nike, again. While it was only a photo, he took it as a promise that he’d see her face to face.

Tom hoped that the next time either of them saw the statue they would do it together, as a couple.

Despite the fact that their relationship was not done being repaired, and that when he last saw her it was bittersweet, he couldn’t help but think of all those years ago reading a few lines of a poem over her shoulder _._ It was because of Pablo Neruda, he felt, that his Winged Victory came into his life. Perhaps she would be his once again.

If he didn’t muck things up.


End file.
